


Last Vestiges

by pl2363



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Forced Programming, Heavy Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Conditions, Mpreg, Original Character Death(s), Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Transformer Sparklings, Transformers Spark Bonds, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz accidentally gets himself sparked, and soon learns that accident might cost him everything he holds dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted a fic in almost two months because I had unwanted criticism left for me on another fic. Sure fire way to get me to not post anymore is to critique my writing. I know I am not a great writer. I do this for fun and share because sometimes other people enjoy what I post. And when I am left 'helpful' comments I didn't ask for it ruins the enjoyment for me. 
> 
> Also, this IS a Mpreg fic, but it's the the style of Mpreg with a spark growing against a host spark and when the new spark is ready it's extracted and placed into a small protoform. So yes, baby robots, but no growing a frame inside a host or anything. 
> 
> If this offends you please DO NOT READ. 
> 
> Okay, I think that's all the warning I need to make... To those who like this sort of thing, enjoy!
> 
> “I need the clouds to cover me  
> Pulling them down, surround me  
> Without your love I'll be  
> So long and lost, are you missing me?
> 
> Is it too late to come on home?  
> Are all those bridges now old stone?  
> Is it too late to come on home?  
> Can the city forgive? I hear its sad song
> 
> It's been so long between the words we spoke  
> Will you be there up on the shore, I hope  
> You wonder why it is that I came home  
> I figured out where I belong,” 
> 
> -”Long and Lost” by Florence + the Machine

Arching his chest up and rolling his head back, Jazz groaned. His fingers clung tightly to white shoulders as Prowl thrust over and over into his valve. Kisses danced over his exposed throat, and Jazz smiled in response to the affection. He loved this mech with every micrometer of his being. Relaxing back against the berth, he shifted his lust-filled gaze to meet with Prowl’s.

“Sparks?” Prowl asked, voice thin and airy as he slowed his pace down.

Jazz lit up at that and fervently nodded. “Frag, yeah.”

Prowl kissed him sweetly and then he heard the shift of chestplates. Jazz initiated the sequence to open his own, and wrapped his legs around Prowl’s hips. “Keep ‘facing me at the same time?”

“Of course,” Prowl replied as he pressed his chest flush to Jazz’s and continued to roll his hips.

Within moments, Jazz was enveloped by the beautiful light of the spark he so adored. Having merged several times since waking up on Earth, their sparks immediately recognized one another and melded together within the space of only a few pulses.

Pleasure radiated from between his legs as Prowl continued to thrust, and love expanded between their sparks, filling his entire body from his helm horn to the tip of his toes with unparalleled bliss. Jazz wanted a bond so desperately, but they’d discussed the risks and decided against it. Of course in the midst of a merge, Jazz couldn’t fathom why in the world they wouldn’t. The love they shared ran so deep that their sparks vibrated with what sounded like music in his mind. A melody he one day wanted to somehow capture with his holo-guitar.

‘You’re my world,’ Prowl said through their sparks.

‘You’re my everythin’,’ Jazz replied with a smile.

Here they could express how they felt openly, and it never failed to be an awesome experience to feel how much Prowl did in fact love him.

The crest of pleasure reached it’s peak, and Jazz cried out with an intense overload of his body and spark all at once. Prowl overloaded simultaneously, liquid heat filled Jazz’s valve, and their sparks practically exploded between their chests before pulling apart and returning to their respective chambers.

Up and down had no meaning, and Jazz happily tumbled through the cascade of pleasure that had taken hold of his frame before he offlined.

Coming to a few minutes later, he smiled as he gazed at Prowl sprawled over top of him still offline. Gently running his fingertips down Prowl's cheek, he felt nothing but amazing warmth for this mech pulsing inside his chest.

He wanted more than just being allowed these stolen moments with Prowl, though. Since the start, they'd not made their relationship known. Back on Cybertron Jazz had been as understanding as he could be about it. There were rules against fraternization and Prowl felt they'd lose the respect of their subordinates. But now that they were here on Earth with so few of them left, the secrecy of their relationship was harder to maintain and had started to bother him more.

Prowl's optics dimly lit. He looked up at Jazz, nuzzled his cheek. “Lovely as always.”

Jazz smiled at that, and ran his fingers over the smooth surface of Prowl’s doorwing. “You know, if you let me move in here with you, we could do that lots more often.”

Pushing off Jazz, Prowl settled beside him, propping his head up on his hand to gaze down at him. “We’ve talked about this before. You know it’s just not an option right now.”

Jazz pouted at Prowl. “I don’t see why not. Red and ‘Ferno moved in together, Even Wheeljack stays in Ratchet’s quarters more than his own.”

Half-frowning, Prowl gently ran his thumb over Jazz’s lower lip. “They are not command staff.”

Jazz sighed. Prowl saw the world in rights and wrongs, never seeing the grey areas between. He knew that about him, and for the most part accepted it. Resigned to the fact there would be no changing Prowl’s mind, Jazz put away his own desire and covered his disappointment with a faked smile. “Can I at least stay over the night?”

Prowl leaned in, kissing Jazz. “Of course.”

That made Jazz’s spark all fluttery, and his faked smile became genuine. They settled together in Prowl’s berth, and the lighting was turned out. Jazz stayed awake as long as he could, gazing at Prowl draped over him in the darkness, savoring the closeness and warmth. If only every night could be like this.

…

Mirage stepped in close, hands moving over Jazz as he applied the camo-paint. Well aware of the spy’s crush on him, Jazz always walked a fine line in Mirage’s presence. Flirting back a little, since his relationship to Prowl was secret, but careful not to flirt too much and give him hope of a chance with him.

“Do the humans really think this silly paint will hide us?” Mirage asked, slathering more of the mud-colored paint down the back of Jazz’s leg.  

“Well, it should at least make us less shiny. I suppose that’ll help us get in closer without glinting and giving away our position,” Jazz replied.

“True.” Mirage finished, and handed Jazz the can of paint. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” Jazz replied with a grin. He dipped his hand into paint and started to slather it over Mirage’s lithe frame.

“How long will this mission take, you think?” Mirage asked, optics watching Jazz’s hands moving over his warming frame.

“Few days, I think?” Jazz replied. “Earth days are short, though. Should go fast.”

Mirage hummed his agreement.

Jazz moved around to his back, applying more of the paint to cover the striking blue and white of Mirage’s body. He was a pretty mech, there was no doubt about that. Jazz might even be tempted if things were different, but his spark belonged to Prowl.

“All done.” Jazz set the paint can down and rubbed the remainder over his hands.

Mirage frowned as he looked down at himself. “We look ridiculous.”

Jazz snorted and laughed. “But think ‘bout how good it’ll feel to wash off when we get back.”

“I do look forward to having every micrometer of my frame scrubbed clean by talented black fingers when we return,” Mirage replied with a smile.

“You know...” Jazz leaned in closer to Mirage. “You have black hands.”

Mirage swatted at Jazz. Laughing, Jazz ran from the mission prep room, out to where their weapons were stowed. Mirage chased him, pinning him to the wall. He leaned in, their faces hovering close. Jazz was just about to duck down and escape when a loud clearing of a vocalizer drew their attention to the doorway.

“Heya, Prowl,” Jazz said, pushing at Mirage to move away.

Complying, Mirage stepped back a couple paces to a more respectful distance and nodded hello to Prowl. “Sir.”

“The human convoy of vehicles have gathered at the mountain pass. It’s time to head out. Assuming you’re both ready,” Prowl said, doorwings twitching behind him.

Jazz knew that twitch. It meant he was annoyed. “Yeah, just grabbin’ our weapons. We’ll be out in a sec.”

Prowl sharply nodded, then turned on his heel and stalked out.

“I wonder if he was created with that rod up his aft or not,” Mirage said with a sullen frown.

“Aw, don’t be so hard on ‘im. He’s got a tough job, lookin’ after all of us,” Jazz replied, opening the weapon cabinet and unhooking two small handguns. He held one out to Mirage.

Taking it, Mirage eyed him. “You always stick up for him. He paying you off or something?”

Jazz shook his head. “Just think mechs shouldn’t give ‘im such a hard time is all. I know I couldn’t do his job, sending mechs off to possibly die and all that.”

Mirage shrugged as he sub-spaced his weapon. “I suppose.”

“Anyway, let’s go hitch a ride, and the drive through the forests of Russia!” Jazz said, clapping his hands together.

Cracking a smile, Mirage shook his head. “You are too adorable for your own good.”

Jazz laughed it off, as they walked out together. Truth was, this fine line he walked got tiring. He sure hoped he didn’t slip up over the next few days alone with Mirage and spill the truth about him and Prowl.

…

The road through the mountain areas wound around with sharp switchbacks. They climbed up slowly in the middle of the convoy of trucks and tanks toward the area overlooking where some Decepticon activity had been spotted by the local humans. This was an intel gathering mission only, hence his and Mirage being painted to help hide their presence among the humans.

A couple hours into the mountain road drive, Jazz’s fuel tank began to gurgle at him. His morning ration wasn’t converting properly and making him feel sick. He’d gone quiet to focus on keeping the contents of his fuel tank from trying to come up, which of course Mirage noticed.

::Jazz, everything alright?:: Mirage asked over internal comms.

::Yeah, fine. Just feelin’ a little off. Hope we get to the camp soon,:: Jazz replied.

::Off?:: Mirage sounded concerned.

::Fuel tank is bein’ cranky. No biggie,:: Jazz replied.

“Up ahead, the camp!” a human shouted back at the convoy.

 _Thank Primus._ They reached an encampment, and were led to a large tent set up for them. Once inside, Jazz transformed and scowled as he doubled over, fuel tank threatening to spill it’s contents.

Mirage also transformed, and stood at his side, arm wrapped around him. “Jazz, what can I do to help?”

A few of the humans filed into the tent, and Jazz forced himself to stand upright. Ever the actor, he pretended to be perfectly well in the human presence and gently pushed Mirage away.

The humans lined up in front of them.

“If there’s anything you need, just ask. We’ve placed your tent at the top to be able to see down into the mountain valley area,” the general said, pulling back part of a tent flap to show them.

Peering down, Jazz saw the Decepticon encampment. It was no small operation. They were definitely up to something.

“Thanks, General. We’ll do our spy thing,” Jazz replied.

The humans saluted them, then filed out of the tent. The moment they were gone, Jazz doubled over again, this time dropping to his knees on the ground.

Mirage flocked back over to his side, rubbing his back. “Jazz, what is going on? We had the same rations this morning. I don’t feel ill…”

“I have no fraggin’ clue, but pretty sure I’m gonna purge,” Jazz replied, both hands wrapping over his mouth as he heaved.

Mirage moved quickly, finding a drum that had a plastic bag in it at the corner of their tent. “I think humans use this for refuse, perhaps–”

Jazz grabbed the drum from Mirage’s grasp, and wretched up his entire ration. Once most of it came up, he spat out the foul-tasting unprocessed energon still in his mouth.

“Jazz…” Mirage looked horrified.

Jazz sank down, sitting on his aft on the cold ground. He actually felt much better now. “Dunno what’s wrong with me.” He looked up at Mirage, whose expression had shifted from concern to a look of disappointment. “What’s with the face you’re makin’?”

Mirage sadly frowned. “We only purge our tanks if the energon is too poor of quality to process.”

“You kept yours down okay,” Jazz replied, feeling a little woozy from the lack of fuel.

Reaching into his subspace, Mirage took out a ration and a vial of supplements used for mechs injured in the field. He poured the supplement into the ration container and then gracefully sat down next to Jazz, holding it out to him.

“I’m not wounded,” Jazz said, taking the offered fuel. The minute the scent of the enriched fuel wafted his direction, he couldn’t hold back, though, greedily gulping it down.

“Who have you been dating?” Mirage asked.

Licking his lips as he finished the ration, Jazz feigned confusion. “Huh?”

“The fuel we consume on base is riddled with Earth minerals, which our systems can normally filter without issue. Unless-” Mirage sadly frowned. “-our systems are compromised. So, who have you been sharing sparks with?”

Jazz’s mouth gaped at that. “What?”

“My guess is you’re sparked,” Mirage replied.

“I have an inhibitor,” Jazz replied. “I can’t be.”

“I would bet the moons of Cybertron that you are. Perhaps your inhibitor is damaged.” Mirage sighed, looking almost hurt.

Jazz slowly shook his head. “No one’s supposed to know.”

“I thought we were close. That you told me things you don’t tell others.” Mirage dimmed his optics. “That you trusted me.”

“I _do_ ,” Jazz replied, looking at his comrade and friend. “Just, you’re always flirtin’ with me. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Mirage scowled at that. “Flirting or not, I would hope you could confide in me if you’re sharing sparks with someone!”

Jazz frowned. “You’re not gonna believe me. And if I do tell you, you can’t tell _anyone_ else.”

“ _Who_ is it?” Mirage asked again.

Jazz gazed at Mirage, unwavering as he finally answered. “Prowl.”

Mirage deflated a little and sadly smiled. “Always sticking up for him. Not all that surprising, actually. How long have you two been… together?”

“Long time. Since about when I entered Special Ops,” Jazz replied.

“Before I joined,” Mirage quietly replied. “Why all the secrecy?”

“Prowl thinks we’d lose the respect that comes with our positions in the command staff. Plus, back on Cybertron when there were more of us the fraternization rules still applied,” Jazz explained.

“Sounds like Prowl-logic,” Mirage replied. “Had I known, I would never have…” He folded his hands in his lap. “My apologies.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for. I didn’t tell you the truth,” Jazz half-smiled. “Feels good confiding in you. Especially since lately the whole hiding our relationship thing has started to really wear on me.”

“If you’re purging your tank, that means you’re well into the first phase of carrying. Emotions tend to run higher when sparked,” Mirage replied.

The way Mirage spoke, it was almost as if he knew first hand. Jazz thought about asking, but decided to hold off for now. “Sparked…” He frowned as he gazed off. “Ratch can snuff it out, right?”

“I’m sure he can,” Mirage quietly replied.

Neither said anything for a long while after that. Silence filled the tent, thick and heavy with unspoken emotions for each of them.

Being sparked meant there was a sparkling’s first light growing against his own spark. A life born of his and Prowl’s merges, created through their love for one another. He touched his chest and for a flicker of a moment considered what it might be like to keep it. Snuggles, kisses, playing games, teaching, all these things and more might be wonderful to experience, but Prowl couldn’t even publicly acknowledge their relationship. Any hopes of family life evaporated with that thought and he frowned again. Looking at Mirage, he felt bad for making him think he hadn’t trusted him.

“‘Raj?” Jazz reached over, placing his hand on Mirage’s.

“Mmm?” Mirage replied, looking up at him.

“Sorry ‘bout making you feel bad. I should’ve told you.”

“You should have, yes.” Mirage then sandwiched Jazz’s hand between his and held it in his lap. “But I’m not angry. You’re my friend. One of the few who have been good to me. I just hope–” he canted his head. “You’ll talk to me more honestly from now on?”

“I will. Promise,” Jazz replied. “Um, would you, ah, go with me to see Ratch when we get back?”

“Don’t you think you should go with Prowl?” Mirage asked.

“Nah. Don’t want to worry him. Plus, not sure I want him to know I got knocked up,” Jazz replied.

A disapproving frown curved the corners of Mirage’s lips. “I think you should tell him. But, it’s your choice.” He then sighed. “I would be honored to escort you.”

Jazz grinned at Mirage. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” Mirage replied with an air superiority in his tone.

Jazz snorted at him and play punched him in the side. With a sigh, he glanced around the tent. “Guess we should get all set up and do our spy thing.”

“That _is_ why we’re here. I have to admit, this cold climate is quite uncomfortable,” Mirage commented.

“Think they have those thermal blankets for us in one of the containers,” Jazz said, pointing at the stack of containers in the corner.

Mirage got to his feet, and riffled through them until he located two large, thermal heated blankets. He threw one over Jazz, and then wrapped the other around his shoulders. “We should get set up.”

“Yes, sir! Oh wait-” Jazz rubbed his chin. “Aren’t I supposed to be in charge?”

Mirage chuckled. “Stop being adorable. Let’s do our job.”

“Alright,” Jazz replied, smiling.

They set up their cameras and linked to teletran, feeding what they could over the Earth’s satellites back to the base. For the moment, Jazz put away his concerns about his own situation, focusing on why they were there. He’d always been good at compartmentalizing his emotions, and soon he was acting like his usual happy-go-lucky self despite the heavy weight of his suspected condition.

…

Jazz woke from a light recharge. He glanced at Mirage who’d been on watch. Rubbing his abdomen area, he felt the annoying gurgle of an empty fuel tank. Frowning, Jazz wondered how far along before snuffing out the sparklet would become dangerous for him.

“All the fliers stopped going in and out of their impromptu base about thirty minutes ago,” Mirage said without looking over at Jazz.

“How’d you know I was up?” Jazz asked.

“Heard your fuel tank. If you need more supplements, I have some,” Mirage replied.

“Nah, I got some.” Jazz sat up and his fuel tank more sounds in protest of its empty state. He sheepishly smiled when Mirage glanced over at him.

Pulling out a ration and supplement vial from his subspace, he prepped the energon and then moved to sit beside Mirage while he sipped it and peered out at the mountain valley and Decepticon base below.

“You wanna turn recharging?” Jazz asked. “I can keep an optic on things.”

“Not quite tired yet,” Mirage replied. “Honestly, the way the base has gone so quiet so quickly, it’s making me worry.”

Jazz frowned. “Think we might’ve been seen?”

“I don’t think so. But–” Mirage paused, and turned his attention back toward the encampment area behind their tent. Engines had started and the sound was getting fainter. “Are the trucks driving away?”

Quickly finishing his fuel, Jazz tossed his empty container aside and he and Mirage got up to look out of the tent. Sure enough, the convoy of trucks that escorted them here were all leaving.

“What the? Where are they going?” Mirage asked, confused.

A sinking feeling hit Jazz. “Think we might’ve been betrayed…” He quickly opened his comm link, sending a distress signal. Not even a moment later a large bomb hit their tent. Jazz and Mirage were both sent flying along with debris from the mountain rocks.

Half-buried, Jazz groaned, pushing boulders off his pinned down frame. “‘Raj! ‘Raj!” he called out, but Mirage wasn’t moving and his optics were black. “Frag.”

Another bomb hit.

More rocks rained down, and Jazz was soon covered in darkness. He struggled against the pile of heavy debris over him, unable to move. “Fraggit!”

::Skyfire is coming for you both. Please respond.::

It was Red Alert’s voice over the internal comm link. ::Mirage is down, injured. I’m buried under rock fall. Can’t get out. Bombs lobbed at us after the slagging humans took off.::

::Additional backup on the way,:: Red Alert replied.

Jazz grimaced when he heard laser fire pepper the area. Unable to see, he worried they were shooting at Mirage. He tried to shove at the rocks, but it was useless. “Fraggit!” he yelled out.

Soon the air stilled. No more laser fire, no jet engines whirring, nothing, just eerie quiet. Jazz hated feeling trapped and useless, but there wasn’t anything he could do at the moment about it. He fingered his chest, thinking about the sparklet for a moment. Bringing a new life into all this chaos seemed insane, and helped him strengthen his resolve to have it extinguished. “Sorry, but it’s not like you’d have much of a life in this world anyway, you know?”

“Jazz! Where are you?” Skyfire called out.

“Here!” Jazz yelled. “Find ‘Raj! I think he’s hurt!”

“I got him already. He’s damaged, but still alive,” Skyfire replied. Rocks began to shift over Jazz, and soon daylight streamed through. “There you are.”

“I heard shots, did they get Mirage?” Jazz asked as he was pulled out from the rubble.

“Mirage wasn’t harmed. The shooting you heard was me chasing the seekers off,” Skyfire replied.

Glancing past Skyfire as he pulled out of the pile of rocks, he saw Mirage offlined but carefully laid out in a flatter area. “Let’s get back to the base with ‘im.”

“My thoughts exactly. A second team is on the way to intersect the human convoy,” Skyfire replied, transforming and opening his cargo hold door.

Jazz hobbled over to Mirage, scooping him up into his arms and then ducking on board their larger comrade. He settled in, holding Mirage close. “You hang in there, you hear?”

…

Back on base watching Ratchet assess Mirage’s condition first, Jazz selfishly hoped it wasn’t anything too dire. He’d really hoped he would be able to ask about his possibly being sparked with his friend at his side.

“Fragging noble builds,” Ratchet muttered, looking over readings and then inspecting an injury at the base of Mirage’s helm. He then fingered the cables of his neck, and suddenly Mirage’s optics lit up and he gasped.

“What the–” Mirage stared up at Ratchet with bright optics.

“Not that you’re going to listen to me, but I recommend your neck to be fitted with protective plating. I just undid a pinched line, _again_ ,” Ratchet said, sounding annoyed.

Mirage’s optics dimmed and he rolled his head to one side to stretch the kinked cable. “And as I’ve said before, _no_.”

Ratchet scowled at him. “You and Sunstreaker should have a contest for who’s more vain.”

Rubbing at the side of his neck, Mirage half-smiled. “I refuse to burden my frame with unnecessary plating. That’s hardly vain, Ratchet.”

“Whatever.” Ratchet’s attention turned in Jazz’s direction. ”Now for you.”

Jazz straightened his posture where he sat on the edge of the medberth. “I think I’m mostly just dented up. I should prolly be alright.”

Mirage sat up on his berth, giving Jazz a sharp look.

“Lemmie scan you anyway,” Ratchet replied. He plugged the hand held scanner into Jazz’s medical port at the base of his neck and furrowed his brow as he looked at the readings. “Low on fuel, but otherwise, things are within normal ranges.”

“Isn’t there something _else_ you’d like to ask about?” Mirage said, frowning at Jazz.

“Um, yeah...” Jazz rubbed the back of his helm, expression turning sheepish.

Ratchet narrowed his optics. “What is it?”

“Was wonderin’ if you’d mind scanning my spark?” Jazz asked.

“Your spark?” Confused, Ratchet slowly shook his head. “Why would you need me to scan it? Are you having pain?”

“No, I ah…” Jazz heaved a sigh. “Just, could you scan it, please?”

Despite looking dubious about his request, Ratchet nodded. “Open up.”

Jazz let his chestplates part, exposing his spark chamber. Ratchet held the scanner over it, performing a deep visual scan.

“What am I look– _oh_.” Ratchet’s mouth snapped shut. He then looked up from the screen of the scanner, and reached into Jazz’s chest, plucking something off the side of his spark chamber. Holding it up, Ratchet scowled at the blackened, half-melted metal. “This _was_ your inhibitor.”

“What the slag?” Jazz said, staring at it.

“You’ve been spark merging with either one of the Praxians on the crew or Optimus. Their sparks run at higher levels and can burn out inhibitors.” Ratchet then looked at Jazz. “And _yes_ , you’re sparked.” He set the burnt inhibitor aside, and turned the scanner around to show Jazz a recorded loop from the scan.

Linked by a thin tendril of light, a tiny sparklight orbited his spark.

Mirage slipped off his berth, and moved to sit next to Jazz, also looking at the scan replay. “Amazing.”

Jazz grimaced and looked away.

Ratchet lowered the scanner. “You suspected, I assume.”

“Mirage did. I purged my mornin’ ration when we arrived at the encampment,” Jazz replied.

“I see,” Ratchet glanced at the scan. “It’s pretty big, which means you’re probably nearing phase two. I’d say you have two to four Earth weeks.”

“What happens then?” Jazz asked.

“You’ll be exhausted,” Mirage replied.

“Never learned about carrying phases?” Ratchet asked.

“Nah. I was a street mech before the war.” Jazz let his chestplates close back up, then pressed a hand over the center.

“Phase one, the sparklet draws on your systems and spark energy and when it’s big enough it’ll start straining those systems, requiring a better quality fuel. Phase two, the strain becomes great enough to require extra rest, so your autorepair can compensate for what the sparkling is taking. Phase three, in order to create energy bursts to help the sparkling grow large enough to reach separation, your libido will be heightened,” Ratchet explained in a dry, medical tone.

Libido? Jazz frowned and shook his head. “I _can’t_ keep it. You, ah, you can extinguish it, right?”

“I can,” Ratchet replied. “Is that what you _really_ want?”

Jazz sighed. “Doesn’t much matter what I want. Keepin’ it is irresponsible. Not like I can raise a sparkling in the middle of a war on a base. There’s a reason we’re supposed to all have inhibitors.”

“Knowing Optimus, I’m sure he’d support you if you chose to keep it,” Ratchet said, sadly frowning.

Rubbing his chest, Jazz shook his head. “No. Just… remove it.”

“Okay,” Ratchet said, setting the scanner aside. “Lay back, and I’ll get my tools.”

Mirage scooted to the edge as Jazz laid back on the berth. He held one of Jazz’s hands in his lap, and gazed at him with a sad smile. “You’re sure about this?”

Jazz nodded. “What kind of life would it have, ‘Raj? I can’t even be open about who sparked me.”

Gazing at their hands in his lap, Mirage nodded. “As long as you’re sure.”

Ratchet returned and set up on a small rolling table. He picked up long set of tongs with flat ends, and turned to Jazz. “Open up again... please.”

Jazz let his chestplates part yet again, and tensed as Ratchet moved in with the long tool. Tears pooled on his optics behind his visor as he squeezed Mirage’s hand hard, overcome with emotion. This little life inside him was _his and Prowl’s_. They’d created something incredible against all odds. Despite knowing it was the logical thing to do, he suddenly couldn’t go through with snuffing it out. His other arm shot up, shoving Ratchet away. “Stop!”

Both Mirage and Ratchet looked surprised by his outburst.

“I-I need to think about this.” Jazz quickly shut his chestplates.

Ratchet looked almost relieved. “Once you’re in phase two, it’ll be too dangerous to extinguish the sparklet, so let me know what you decide for sure within the next couple of weeks.” He set the tool down. “I’ll go prep you some extra supplement vials to take with you.” With a sigh, he turned and left.

Mirage looked at Jazz, and canted his head. “Will you talk to Prowl then?” he asked in a hushed voice, so Ratchet wouldn’t know exactly who’d sparked Jazz.

Jazz nodded. “Yeah. I wanna talk to him before I do anything rash.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Mirage replied.

“Thanks, you know, for bein’ here with me,” Jazz said, smiling warmly at Mirage.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that,” Mirage replied.

“You’re the best. ‘Raj.” Jazz squeezed his friend’s hand.

“I know,” Mirage replied, smugly smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revealing the truth isn't easy for Jazz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the kind comments. I really appreciate them all. <3 As a reward have a two-fer update today! Here's the first!

Lying on Prowl’s berth, Jazz waited. Once he and Mirage had been released from medbay, they’d cleaned up, removing the camo paint, and then he’d come here despite not having pre-arranged a meeting with Prowl. They had things they needed to discuss. Namely the sparkling he was currently carrying, but also about the secrecy of their relationship that was bothering him more than usual.

The lock on the door disengaged, and it slid open. About five paces later, Prowl appeared in the berthroom doorway and his doorwings rose with concern.

“You’re alright?” Prowl asked, immediately looking Jazz over. “You’re dented,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the berth and gently running his fingers over one of Jazz’s forearms.

“Happens when a mountain blows up and buries a mech,” Jazz replied, half-smiling. “Me and ‘Raj are okay.”

“The humans that betrayed us are being held by their local authorities.” Prowl sighed. “And the intel you and Mirage were able to transmit is being analyzed by teletran. Hopefully by morning I will be able to form a plan of attack.”

“Glad it wasn’t a totally wasted trip,” Jazz replied.

Prowl smiled a little, then leaned down, capturing Jazz’s lips in a lovely kiss. As it broke he lingered close, gently kissing Jazz’s lower lip. “Wasn’t expecting you, but this is a wonderful surprise,” he said in a low, rumbled tone.

Dazed by the affection, Jazz happily sighed. “Yeah, I had some stuff to talk about with you. So I broke in.”

Prowl sat back up, and gently fingered the edges of Jazz’s visor. Responding to the unspoken request, Jazz let the catches release.

“It’s not breaking in if you have my access code,” Prowl said, removing his visor and smiling at the sight of Jazz’s full face.

“I know, just sounds cooler if I say ‘break in’,” Jazz replied.

After placing the visor on the berthside table, Prowl turned his attention back to Jazz. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I, ah,” Jazz faltered, unable find the right words to explain that he was sparked. He grimaced a little, then decided to start with something else. “Um, well, I wanted to ask if we could maybe move in together. And stop hiding our relationship.”

Prowl’s pleased look faded. “We can’t, you know that.”

 _Tell him! Tell him you’re sparked! Stop being such a fragging coward!_ he silently chided himself. But no words to that effect formed on his lips. Instead, he forced a smile. “I know. I just wish things were different. I don’t get to see you for weeks sometimes, you know?”

Looking concerned, Prowl ran his fingers over Jazz’s dented frame. “I’ll make more of an effort to clear time for you. And… I’d very much like you stay for the evening. That is, if you want to.”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I won’t be up for much,” Jazz replied. “I feel like I went a couple rounds with Devestator.”

Prowl’s lips curved into a playful smile that was reserved for Jazz only. “Let me do everything, then.” He leaned in, mouthing Jazz’s neck.

Jazz practically melted at the affectionate contact and dimmed his optics. “If you insist.” He’ll tell Prowl later. Why ruin this moment?

“So pretty,” Prowl murmured, hand sliding over Jazz’s abdomen and then pushing between his legs to cup his interface cover. At the same time, Prowl mouthed down his body, pausing to lick at a headlight. Jazz whined and writhed as pleasure zinged over his plating at the sensitive area being teased.

Scooting back, Prowl settled between Jazz’s legs, kissing and licking the closed cover. With the rush of arousal now pulsing through his lines, his self control weakened and he let the cover snap open. Prowl looked pleased as he slid the tip of his glossa up the underside of Jazz’s spike. Holy frag, was he really gonna-?

Prowl wrapped his mouth over his spike, sinking his mouth down over it. There were few things that turned Jazz on more than the sight and feel of Prowl with his mouth full of his spike. It surged in the warmth of Prowl’s mouth, and he was completely at his mercy, left whimpering with want.

Smiling around his spike, Prowl slowly began to pull off, then sucked the head hard before sinking back down. He repeated the action over and over, soon settling into a lovely rhythm that had Jazz a moaning, wanton mess.

Lightly panting as his core temp rose, Jazz rolled his hips slightly, pushing into that slick heat as Prowl bobbed his head until he was quivering on the edge of overload. Suddenly Prowl pulled off completely.

“Prowl… what’r ya doin’?” Jazz whined.

“This,” Prowl replied, as two fingers slid into his valve. “I want you left strutless.”

Jazz’s valve squeezed those fingers, and he suddenly knew what Prowl was going to make him do: overload both parts of his array at once. With a knowing smile, Jazz grasped at the berth padding, bracing himself. “Frag, I love you.”

Prowl chuckled a little. “Love you, too,” he replied, curling his fingers inside, while running his thumb over the platelets at the leading edge of his valve in circular motions.

Rolling his head back against the berth, Jazz let Prowl play his body like an instrument. Drawing long moans and whimpers from him with each touch to his array. Suddenly slick warmth enveloped his spike again, and he knew he was done for. His panting increased along with his rising core temperature. It only took a few hard sucks to his spike combined with his valve being fingered to send him tumbling into an intense overload. Crying out, pleasure exploded through his array, echoing over his sensory net. Up and down meant nothing, just unadulterated bliss that overtook him completely. He was only vaguely aware as it started to ebb that Prowl was still suckling his spike until there was nothing left for it to give.

Sinking against the berth, Jazz could only whimper. He couldn’t even move. Primus help him, Prowl could strip his gears like no one else.

Sitting back up, Prowl licked at his fingertips, then crawled up overtop of Jazz, capturing his lips in a kiss. He could taste himself all over Prowl, which sent a shiver through his frame.

“Did I meet my mission objective?” Prowl asked with a knowing smile.

“Yeah,” Jazz replied. “Think you broke me but good.”

Prowl nuzzled his cheek, then scooped him up into arms and settled on his back, holding Jazz against his side.

“Too wiped out to return the favor,” Jazz murmured as he snuggled against Prowl and got comfortable.

“Some other time. Rest, let your autorepair do it’s job,” Prowl replied.

He was always so pragmatic. Jazz’s opposite, but at the same time a perfect compliment to his own wild personality. Plus, he saw the rare emotional side Prowl hid away from everyone else. He dimmed his optics once Prowl hit the controls for the lighting, making the room dark, and soon his thoughts were scattered and barely cohesive as he gave into the need for recharge.

_Tomorrow, I’ll tell him about the sparkling…_

…

Loading up the carriers, everyone was ready for the takedown of the base in Northern Russia. Prowl had divided them into teams, and they were going to hit the base with a full frontal assault, while Jazz and his small team infiltrated and shut down the main frame.

Jazz sat down inside one of the carrier plane's hulls and predictably Mirage joined him.

Leaning in close, Mirage whispered into his audio. “You tell him yet?”

Frowning, Jazz shook his head. He hadn’t seen Prowl since he’d stayed over two nights before. With the situation ramping up around the Decepticons, he’d decided not to bother Prowl with the whole sparked thing yet.

Mirage sadly frowned. “When will you tell him?”

“Not _now_. We’re ‘bout to take down a base. I’ll tell him after we’re sure the ‘cons aren’t busy trying to destroy the planet with us on it,” Jazz replied.

Crossing his arms, Mirage huffed and leaned against the carrier plane’s bulkhead.

“‘Raj, I know you mean well, but I gotta tell him at the right moment,” Jazz added.

“Right moment?” Bluestreak asked, sitting down across from them. “This about the mission?”

“Nah, it’s nothing, don’t you worry ‘bout it. Just give me and ‘Raj good cover fire in there, okay?” Jazz replied in his usual cheery tone.

Bluestreak grinned. “Best sharpshooter Cybertron ever created! I’m excited to be on the infiltration team. Prowl seemed unsure, but I insisted I can handle it.”

“I have faith in you,” Jazz replied.

The engines of the plane whirred to life, and Jazz leaned back against the bulkhead next to Mirage. He knew his friend was angry with him, but he also knew emotion would never cloud a mission for either of them.

“I brought along my rifle and my pair of pistols, too. I hope I have enough rounds. I’ve always just been a distant shooter for missions,” Bluestreak babled as the cargo doors closed. He paused as the plane started to move, looking around. “Well, I guess this is it!”

Jazz couldn’t help but smile at the younger mech, and he saw even Mirage smile a little bit. “Certainly is, Blue.”

…

Sneaking into the facility after the frontal assault began had been easy enough. Getting back out? That hadn’t been quite as smooth an operation. The front half of the base was smashed to rubble, meaning they had to find another way out. Of course, they weren’t the only ones trying to escape the carnage, and gotten themselves pinned down in a small room unable to get to the exit at the rear.

Bluestreak held the two Decepticons firing on them back with carefully placed shots each time he peered out and took aim. But he wasn’t going to last forever, no matter how many rounds he’d packed.

“‘Raj, think you can go all see-through and get past those two?” Jazz asked.

“Of course I can, but I don’t want to leave the two of you here,” Mirage replied.

“I was thinkin’ maybe you take this with you?” Jazz pulled out one of Wheeljack’s little inventions that actually worked pretty well, a mini-bomb.

Mirage smirked and snatched it from Jazz’s hand, immediately shimmering out of sight. They’d worked together so long at this point, Jazz didn’t even need to explain anything. Mirage simply knew.

Bluestreak looked confused as Jazz pulled him from the doorway. “Don’t move, let ‘Raj take care of things.”

“But he might get shot. Even with his special ability, shouldn’t I–” A large explosion interrupted Bluestreak.

They both got to their feet, weapons raised as they bolted out into the hall. The two Decepticons were laid out, burnt plating stinking up the hallway. Mirage then shimmered back into view near the back exit. He gracefully gestured. “Shall we leave now?”

Jazz grinned. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Mirage simply smiled as Jazz and a very wide-opticked Bluestreak went past him and out the door.

“I wanna come on all your missions from now on!” Bluestreak said in awe.

…

Upon returning to the base, mechs who required medical attention were given priority, and the guts of the main frame of the Decepticon base were unloaded from one of the carrier planes. It was the usual organized chaos of a post assault mission.

Jazz disembarked with Mirage and Bluestreak but quickly excused himself, making a beeline for the refectory. Despite fueling before they left, his tank was churning and fuel reserves low. He filled a glass and pulled out some of the supplements, dumping them in and swirling them around to dissolve with his finger. He licked his finger clean and picked up the glass, taking a huge swig.

“Are you injured?”

The familiar voice caused Jazz to freeze, then shift his gaze sideways. Prowl looked worried, doorwings up high on his back. He swallowed his large mouthful then flashed a grin at Prowl. “I’m good.”

“Why are you putting healing supplements in your energon?” Prowl asked.

“I ah...” Jazz looked at his fuel, cursing himself for not waiting until he was alone to drink it. His smile faded a little, and he knew if there was a moment to reveal the fact he was sparked, this was it. “Thing is, I, ah… I’m–”

“Prowl! Prime needs you right now! They found a secondary base location listed in what’s left of the main frame,” Red Alert said, urgently waving Prowl to come with him.

“Get to medical, Jazz. We’ll talk later, okay?” Prowl said, looking at him.

“You got it,” Jazz replied.

Once Prowl was out of sight, Jazz’s posture sagged. He sipped at his fuel and sat down at one of the small tables. He watched a couple other mechs duck in to get fuel then head back out. After a mission like this one, many would be in medbay with comrades, irritating Ratchet, while others sought comfort in the arms of one another behind closed doors. And then there were mechs like Prowl or Optimus who tirelessly worked to understand the ‘why’ behind the actions of mechs like Megatron through analyzation and hindsight, which to Jazz seemed kind of pointless. The Decepticons were idiots, run by an even bigger, sadistic idiot. End of story.

Fueled up, Jazz got up and dropped his glass into the rinse bin. He felt a little achy and sort of tired as he started down the hall toward his office, but then decided it would be best to stay out of everyone’s way and just go recharge in his quarters for a while. Veering off toward the barracks, he sighed. “They’ll comm if they need me.”

…

Groaning, Jazz lit his optics. Someone was repeatedly pressing the buzzer for his quarters. “What the frag,” he mumbled. He swung his legs off his berth, stood up and started toward the door. He didn’t get far before he promptly tripped over some datapads he’d left in the way, landing face first on the floor. Groaning at how groggy he felt, he huffed and pushed to stand up again. Staggering to the door he hit the release when the buzzer sounded for the millionth time. “ _What is it?_ ” He practically shouted as the door slid open.

Mirage’s optics brightened, his finger poised to press the buzzer again. “Why haven’t you answered you comm link?”

“You pinged me?” Jazz frowned. He hadn’t woken up to his comm, and that worried him since he didn’t normally recharge heavily like that.

Pressing black fingers to Jazz’s chest, Mirage gently pushed him back into his quarters, inviting himself in. Leveling a look at Jazz, he half-frowned. “Have you recently overloaded?”

Jazz slammed his hand on the door release, snapping it shut before anyone happened by and heard their conversation. “I know we’re close and all, but that’s kinda personal.”

Mirage crossed his arms over his chest and raised an optic ridge. “You are one of the biggest flirts I’ve ever met, but you're going to be shy about sharing the last time you overloaded?”

Jazz grimaced. “Few days ago.”

“Before or after you found out about the sparkling?” Mirage asked.

“After. What does that matter?” Jazz asked.

“Establishing a timeline.” Mirage then cupped Jazz’s face with his hand, and looked into his optics. “You have pretty optics, you know.”

Jazz half-smiled. “Now who’s the flirt?”

“I just rarely see you without your visor on,” Mirage commented casually. “Did you have a full recharge cycle?”

“Well, yeah. I passed out not too long after we came back yesterday,” Jazz replied.

Mirage’s optics flashed at that. “But you’re still tired?”

Humming and nodding, Jazz began to worry. Was that odd? Was that _not_ part of being sparked? Also, Mirage seemed to know a lot about carrying, which made him really wonder–

“You might be slipping into phase two already,” Mirage said, lowering his hand.

“Ratch said I had two weeks at least,” Jazz replied. Primus, this was happening too fast.

“Overloads at any stage feed the sparkling energy which in turns helps it grow,” Mirage explained.

“Oh.” And that had been a doozy of an overload the other night… Jazz rubbed his chest and slowly nodded. “You sure know a lot about this stuff.”

Mirage’s optics dimmed as he averted his gaze.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to say somethin’ I shouldn’t,” Jazz quickly added.

Meeting Jazz’s concerned gaze, Mirage sadly smiled. “You didn’t say anything wrong. And yes, if you hadn’t already figured it out, I’ve been sparked before.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jazz replied in a softened tone, somewhat surprised.

“I don’t talk about him. It’s still too painful,” Mirage replied.

Jazz gently took hold of his friend’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I’m sorry, ‘Raj.”

With a sad-looking smile, Mirage squeezed his hand. “But since I have first hand experience, I’m happy to help you as much as I can.”

“That means a lot to me, actually,” Jazz replied.

“I assume you didn’t tell Prowl yet since you passed out so early yesterday,” Mirage said, raising an optic ridge.

“I came close to tellin’ him. He caught me puttin’ the supplements in my energon, but right when I was studderin’ my way through it Red interrupted.” Jazz shrugged a shoulder.

“That’s unfortunate,” Mirage replied.

“Yeah.” Jazz stared off into nowhere for a moment, trying to think of a way to corner Prowl and not lose his nerve. He should just surprise Prowl in his quarters again, but he’d let himself get distracted and used it as an excuse to not tell him last time. Maybe he should visit him in his office?

“Jazz?”

Looking back up at Mirage, he canted his head. “Yeah?”

Mirage half-smiled. “You zoned out there for a moment. Perhaps a stop by medbay might be prudent. My unofficial diagnosis might be correct, but I think it would be best to ask Ratchet.”

Petulantly frowning, Jazz sighed. “I suppose.”

“Would you like me to go with you?” Mirage offered.

Jazz sheepishly smiled as he nodded. “Yeah.”

…

“Congratulations, your sparkling’s size now qualifies for phase two,” Ratchet said with a partial frown. “Quite a little growth spurt.”

Jazz slumped his shoulders. “So that means I can’t have it removed, right?”

Ratchet looked up from the scanner and nodded. “Removing it now could fatally damage your own spark.”

“Right. Okay. So what do I do now?” Jazz asked.

“For the start of this phase your exhaustion will make it harder to function at your full duty functions. I recommend speaking with Prowl about reducing your hours,” Ratchet said. “After about two Earth months, your systems will adjust to the change and the exhaustion should taper off.”

Jazz sagged where he sat and frowned. How in the world would be pull off being TIC like this? Not to mention, he desperately needed to tell Prowl.

Mirage leaned over so he could see the scan looping on Ratchet’s hand-held scanner. “Look at that little life, so incredible.”

That made Jazz smile and he touched his chestplate. “Anything else? Like, will I start to feel it at all?”

He got matching looks of confusion from both Mirage and Ratchet.

“You don’t feel it now?” Ratchet asked.

“Ah, no?” Jazz shook his head.

“Usually at this stage you’d start to sense its presence,” Mirage replied.

Jazz shook his head. “I don’t feel anythin’ from it.”

“Might just be too soon.” Ratchet’s concerned look faded. “Keep up with the supplements, and don’t let your fuel tank get low.”

“Sure thing,” Jazz replied.

Ratchet made a few notes in Jazz’s medical file, then let him leave. Once he and Mirage stepped out of medbay, he couldn’t help but notice his friend looked troubled.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Jazz asked.

Mirage pursed his lips for a moment, then looked at Jazz as they slowly walked. “Where did you grow up?”

“In an orphanage. The minute I was in my adult upgrades I ran away, lived on the streets.” Jazz canted his head. “Why?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Mirage replied.

“ _Probably_ nothing?” Jazz asked. “You’re freaking me out a little.”

“If you still don’t feel your sparkling in a couple weeks, be sure to tell Ratchet about it,” Mirage replied.

“Is that bad? That I can’t sense it yet?” Jazz asked.

Mirage frowned. “It could be a sign–”

“Mirage! Hey there!” Hound said jogging to catch up with them in the hall. “Oh, hey Jazz. What are you two up to?”

“I have shooting practice I’m heading out to do,” Mirage replied.

“I got office stuff I gotta go do,” Jazz said, not missing the look of adoration on Hound’s face as he kept his gaze on Mirage.

“Wanna partner on the range?” Hound asked.

Mirage cordially nodded. “That would be very helpful. I would appreciate that.”

Jazz snorted and laughed. “See you two later,” he said peeling off down an adjoining hallway toward the office suite.

“Make sure you talk to him!” Mirage called out.

Jazz looked over his shoulder, flashing a grin. “I will.”

He saw Prowl’s office door was open, and sauntered in. Prowl was at his desk, surrounded by datapads as usual.

“You’re in late,” Prowl commented without looking up.

“Yeah, needed some extra recharge,” Jazz replied.

Prowl lowered the datapad he was reading, and his doorwings twitched as he looked up at Jazz. “Are you alright?”

There was a subtle warmth to Prowl’s tone that made Jazz smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. I, ah, I have somethin’ important I gotta tell you.” He sat down in one of Prowl’s visitor seats.

“What is it?” Prowl asked.

“Don’t think we’re gonna be able to keep hidin’ things,” Jazz replied.

Prowl immediately hit the remote control on his desktop to shut his office door. “What do you mean?”

 _Don’t be a coward this time and just say it,_ he mentally chided himself. “I, ah, well, the reason I was takin’ those supplements is related to the reason I’m also gonna need some reduction to my hours, which is all because of, um, this little thing that’s currently clingin’ to my spark that we made.”

Prowl’s optics widened. “You’re _sparked?_ ”

“Yeah. Your spark melted my inhibitor, apparently,” Jazz replied.

Prowl’s gaze dropped to Jazz’s chest. He was literally rendered speechless. After a long, tense moment he looked back up at Jazz, then pushed to stand, rounding his desk. He grabbed Jazz’s wrist, pulling him to stand up and wrapping both arms around in him in a tight embrace. “Oh, Jazz. This is amazing.”

“I thought ‘bout gettin’ rid of it,” Jazz admitted, overwhelmed by the positive reaction. “But I couldn’t do it.”

Leaning back, Prowl sadly smiled. “It’s your choice, but I am glad you're keeping it.”

“Really?” Jazz asked. “But, it’s not like you’ll let me move in with you or anything. I wasn’t too sure how you were gonna take the news.”

Realization blossomed over Prowl’s face. “That’s why you kept asking...” He pressed their forehelms together. “I can be dense sometimes. I do apologize.”

Jazz half-smiled. “ _Some_ times…”

Prowl tilted his head, and captured Jazz’s mouth in a lovely kiss. He’d been so scared of telling Prowl, but now he felt like things were going to be okay.

Their tender moment was cut short, however, when the base alarms sounded.

“What the frag now?” Jazz whined.

“Autobot base under attack by Decepticon forces,” Teletran droned.

Prowl scowled. “We’ll talk more later. Make arrangements for your new accommodations.” He then kissed Jazz’s cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Jazz replied, relieved and happy that Prowl wanted him and this little thing inside him, too. “Seeing as they didn’t get enough of an aft whooping yesterday, let’s go kick some _more_ aft.”

Prowl chuckled at that. “Let’s.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl is unable to hide how he feels and Jazz begins to worry something might not be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second update for today! Enjoy~

Prowl’s mind was, as usual, running multiple lines of thoughts at once as he and Jazz raced to the entrance of the base. He worried about letting Jazz fight, wondered how far along he was, made a mental note that he would need to inform Optimus, and hoped that Jazz’s tendency to be messy and his own tendency to be orderly didn’t cause them strife upon integrating their living spaces. At the entrance, he tucked those thoughts toward the back of his mind, and quickly shifted gears. He took in the scene outside, assessing the threat level. He counted how many Decepticons were present, what Autobots were available to fight, and he grimaced as he came to a conclusion.

“We are out-gunned,” Prowl stated.

Laser fire pinged, and he shoved Jazz behind him, doorwings protectively flaring as he backed up. Several fliers were making passes, shooting into the base as best they could from their skyward angle.

Prowl had been left in charge of the base while Optimus took about half their troops to investigate the secondary base location identified from the remains of data they’d found in the main frame they’d confiscated.

“So basically, that whole second base thing was a ruse?” Jazz asked.

Prowl nodded. He opened their general comm link, and began issuing orders. ::Red Alert, inform Optimus and the team to return immediately. Every able-bodied mech on base, come to the front entrance to hold the line.::

Jazz ran over to the controls for the entrance, initiating the force field. Something Wheeljack and Perceptor had installed not too long ago just in case of such a scenario.

Bluestreak, Trailbreaker, Hoist and Inferno came running up. Bluestreak wasted no time, dropping into his sniper stance and shooting. The properties of the forcefield allowed his shots to exit, but for none to enter.

::Sir, some of us were off base at the practice range. Please advise how to proceed,:: Hound said over the general comm lines.

::How many?:: Prowl asked.

:: Two, me and Mirage, :: Hound replied.

Prowl frowned. It would be nice to have their help, but looking out at the scene, he knew they’d not get past the line of Decepticons now gathered and shooting on the base. ::Stay put. When Optimus’ team arrives, join them in a rear assault.::

::Yes, sir,:: both Hound and Mirage replied.

He glanced over, seeing Jazz had joined Bluestreak, trying to pick off the fliers that were closest with their handheld laser pistols. For a flash of a moment, Prowl was distracted by his desire to protect Jazz, wanting to grab him, lock him in a safe inner room of the Ark so no one could harm him. This wasn’t a new feeling associated with the news of their potential offspring, though. Every battle or mission Jazz was involved in put Prowl on edge. Losing Jazz would undoubtedly destroy him. It was his greatest fear.

:: Prowl, patching outside comm with Prime though now!:: Red Alert said.

:: Prowl, we are close. Protect the base as best as you can until we arrive, :: Optimus’ voice boomed over the comm.

::Yes, sir. The entire remaining forces appear to be assaulting the base. Two Autobots, Hound and Mirage, were at the practice range off base. Please ping your location so they may join you, :: Prowl replied.

Suddenly a large bomb dropped by Astrotrain exploded. The world flashed brightly and then he was then plunged into darkness. It took a moment for Prowl to find his bearings. A ringing in his audios was coupled with muffling of all sound. He shoved at the piece of rock over top of him, freeing himself.

He staggered to his feet, looking out over the cascade of rocks caused by the explosion. His first priority wasn’t taking charge of the scene, it was finding Jazz.

“Jazz!” Prowl called out. “Where are you?”

He spotted part of Bluestreak, and climbed over to him. He lifted up boulders, soon freeing the young Praxian.

“Holy frag! We’re trapped!” Bluestreak said as he crawled out.

Only then did Prowl actually look around, seeing the explosion had created a large enough rock slide to completely block them in. He usually processed several things at once. Thoughts about how to best handle a situation, calculating odds, but at this particular moment the only thing he could focus on was locating Jazz.

Muffled yelling drew both his and Bluestreak’s attention.

“You hear that? What is that?” Bluestreak asked.

“The others,” Prowl quickly tried to scramble over the rocks, tripping now and again as he moved toward the shouts praying to Primus Jazz was one of the ones yelling.

“What in the name of almighty Primus?” Ratchet said as he jogged up to the edge of the avalanche with Perceptor.

“There’s distressed shouting from over there,” Perceptor said, pointing to where Prowl was trying to get to.

“Prowl! You’re damaged! Let us dig out whoever is under there,” Ratchet said, climbing toward where the voices were.

“Jazz is in there,” Prowl replied, hyper focused on finding his love as he began to lift and roll rocks away.

Ratchet normally yelled at him to stop being such a glitch when he was still fighting while injured, but instead he’d gone quiet, helping Prowl dig out. Soon all four of them were busily pulling rocks away. More Autobots who’d been healing in medbay but were also ambulatory joined them, and soon a whole team was working to free their comrades.

Rolling a large boulder away with Bluestreak’s help, Prowl saw a shimmer of something that was not a rock at all. He pressed a hand to it, and a black hand met his white one from the opposite side of a forcefield.

“Jazz?” Prowl lifted his hand away, and sure enough Jazz’s grinning face appeared.

“Not sure how much longer ‘Breaker is gonna be able to hold this field up. Think you all could get us out?” Jazz asked, voice muffled by the force field.

“Everyone, work quickly!” Prowl responded.

They worked faster, quickly revealing an opening for the trapped mechs.

“I wonder if this area is stable enough for me to let my forcefield down,” Trailbreaker said, looking at the ring of rocks around them.

“You certainly can’t keep this up indefinitely, my friend. I think we should take our chances,” Hoist replied.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Trailbreaker replied.

The forcefield dropped, and Prowl reached in, grasping for Jazz. Ratchet and the others assisted Trailbreaker and Hoist out as the rocks shifted and slid down to partially fill in the hole they left behind.

Uncaring about appearances, especially in light of the changed situation with the sparkling, Prowl pulled Jazz into a tight embrace.

“You know everyone can see you huggin’ me?” Jazz teased in a hushed voice.

“I don’t care,” Prowl quietly replied. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Better than you,” Jazz said, fingers brushing over one of Prowl’s doorwings.

Prowl winced at the pain, and tried to pull the doorwing away from the touch, but found he had no control over it. He loosened his grasp on Jazz, and looked over his shoulder, trying to see the damage.

“It’s bad,” Ratchet commented. “Let’s get you, Trailbreaker and Blue into medbay.”

“I’m fine,” Prowl insisted, grasp around Jazz’s waist tightening.

“Hey,” Jazz said, gently tapping Prowl’s chest to get his attention. “I’m Third, and I can handle things. You go get looked at.”

Prowl stared at Jazz, conflicted. He didn’t want to leave him to fight alone, but the pain from his own injuries were almost overwhelming now that his hyper focus on locating Jazz had been broken.

“You’re tremblin’ which means it’s gotta hurt pretty bad.” Jazz warmly smiled. “ _Go_.”

“Come on, Prowl.” Ratchet gently touched his lower back. “Jazz is fine, and he can handle things.”

Relenting, Prowl let go of Jazz and climbed down with Ratchet. He looked back up at him, worry curling inside his spark.

“Alright, so, ah not too many of us left.” Jazz hopped down to where the handful of still able-bodied mechs were standing. “Let’s try to tunnel through this mess.”

Prowl lost sight of Jazz as he, Bluestreak and Trailbreaker limped along behind their CMO toward medbay.

::Prowl, Prime is outside with his team. They’re driving the Decepticons off. When the battle is done, they’ll start digging us out, :: Red Alert said.

:: Jazz is now in charge, please update him with the status. Thank you, Red, :: Prowl replied as they reached medbay.

…

Prowl woke, and grimaced, seeing he was in medbay. Then like a punch to the gut, his memories came flooding back. He bolted upright in the berth, and winced. The world felt like it was tilting and spinning around him as a searing pain ripped through his processor.

“Wasn’t expecting you to wake up so soon,” Bluestreak said, chuckling. “Ratchet gave you some heavy duty sedative. Said as he was spiking your lines, and I quote, ‘This’ll keep this fool berth-bound for a while’.”

Deeply frowning, Prowl turned his head to see his younger comrade in the next berth over.

“No way you’re in any shape to go anywhere,” Bluestreak said, half-smiling.

Prowl sighed, laying back. “Any word on what happened?”

“Prime and everyone kicked ‘Con aft, then Jazz got a tunnel opened so they could get out. And I think they’re still clearing rubble. I also overheard Percy telling Ratchet if it hadn’t been for the forcefield we all would’ve been vaporized by that bomb. Scary, huh?” Bluestreak shook his head, then turned in his berth to lay on his side and face Prowl. “So what was up with you and Jazz anyway?”

Glancing at Bluestreak, he frowned.

“Never seen you hug anyone before. Not like that. And he didn’t seem to mind, either.” Bluestreak grinned.

Shifting his gaze to the ceiling, Prowl pressed his lips tightly together for a moment. “I do not wish to add to the rumor mill.”

“It’s not a rumor if it’s the truth and coming from the source,” Bluestreak pointed out. “If anything this’ll end the rumors about Jazz and Mirage being secret berthmates.”

Prowl glanced back at Bluestreak. “Mirage? That’s not the case, I assure you.”

“Then tell me! Are you and Jazz together?” Bluestreak asked.

Resigning himself the fact that whole Ark would soon learn of not only their relationship but eventually the sparkling Jazz was now carrying, Prowl relented. “Yes.”

Bluestreak looked practically giddy. “Really? You two are so different! How long?”

“A very, very long time, actually. And I find we balance one another through our differences,” Prowl admitted.

“That’s amazing. And to be honest, it makes me happy you aren’t all alone. I sometimes worry you only ever work and never relax,” Bluestreak said.

Prowl’s mild embarrassment about talking about something so personal faded a little. “He does make me happy. He always has.”

“Why the big secret then?” Bluestreak asked.

“To protect him.” Prowl dimmed his optics a little. “If it was known it could be used against us by Decepticons. I also worried about losing respect since technically we are violating fraternization rules.”

“Those rules sorta got thrown out the window when we crash-landed on Earth,” Bluestreak said with smirk.

“I realize that,” Prowl replied.

“You’re already awake?” Ratchet said as he walked out of office, noticing them chatting. He stalked over. “I spiked your lines with enough sedative to keep you down for at least a day!”

“I cannot sit up without pain and dizziness,” Prowl replied, raising an optic ridge.

“Well, that’s something at least,” Ratchet replied, his angry look fading to a small victorious smile. “Don’t want you moving around until the welds heal up some. Your one doorwing was barely even attached to you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re at my tender mercy now.”

Bluestreak snickered.

“And you,” Ratchet said looking at Bluestreak. “You should be resting, not running your mouth.”

“Aww, don’t be such a grump,” Bluestreak replied.

“If you were trying to take care of a bunch of mechs that do nothing but get hurt every time you turned around, you’d be grumpy, too.” Ratchet spun on his heel and stalked back to his office.

“Yeesh,” Bluestreak said once Ratchet disappeared.

Prowl opened his comm link. ::Jazz?::

::You’re awake already?:: Jazz responded. ::Ratch said you’d be offline ‘til tomorrow.::

::He underestimates just how strong my will is. Are you alright?:: Prowl asked.

::Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. From the ah, you know…:: He could hear the smile in Jazz’s voice.

::Be sure you rest enough. Did you inform Optimus yet?::

::Not yet. Wanna tell him with you,:: Jazz replied.

Prowl smiled a little.

“You comm’ing Jazz?” Bluestreak whispered.

“Perhaps,” Prowl replied. ::We have a lot to talk about.::

::When you’re outta medbay, we’ll do that. Now stop dancing ‘round and tell me which of these datapads you want me to bring to you so you won’t be bored outta your mind while laid up,:: Jazz said.

::You know me better than anyone else,:: Prowl replied. ::The stack in the middle of my desk, if you wouldn’t mind.::

::See you in a bit!:: Jazz replied, then the line cut out.

“I like how happy looks on you, Prowl,” Bluestreak said.

“Thank you,” Prowl replied, smiling a little as he looked back over at Bluestreak.

He’d been so worried they’d lose respect if their relationship was exposed, but it seemed those fears might’ve been unfounded. Time would tell how the revelations about their relationship might affect the crew as a whole, but if Bluestreak was any indication, things should work out in the end. Or so Prowl dared to hope.

…

“You’re really sure ‘bout this?” Jazz asked as he scooped his Earth sea shell collection into a small box, then slid the lid shut.

“Of course. Optimus approved the move himself. Besides, my quarters are larger. It’ll be easier to accommodate all of us,” Prowl replied, neatly stacking and arranging Jazz’s music file collection before putting them away in a large container.

Jazz watched him alphabetize the music files by artist, and half-smiled. “ _Us._ That’s a weird concept I am having a hard time getting my processor around.”

Prowl looked up. “It’s been an unexpected twist, but happy one, I hope.”

“Oh, yeah, totally. Don’t get me wrong. I just-I never thought this would happen to me like ever, let alone light years away from Cybertron in the middle of a war…” Jazz frowned a little, setting his smaller container inside a larger box. Truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for all this. It felt sudden and extreme, and not in a fun-thrill seeking way. More in a panicked sort of way.

He jerked slightly when Prowl touched his arm, startled by the unexpected touch. He smiled as he met Prowl’s gaze, though.

“I know this is a huge change. I want you to know that you can talk to me. Even if you’re unsure or have doubts about this,” Prowl said, looking worried.

“I will. Promise. I think I’m just kinda overwhelmed, and it’s not helpin’ I feel so tired all the time now,” Jazz replied.

“The solution to that issue is simple, go rest.” Prowl gently rubbed Jazz’s lower back. “I can continue to pack up your things. If you trust me to.”

“I trust you more than anyone ever. You know that,” Jazz replied, optics dimming behind his visor at the comforting touch.

“Then go to _our_ quarters and I’ll be along shortly,” Prowl replied.

Jazz smirked. “Yes, sir!” he teased.

Prowl shook his head at Jazz, and leaned in for a kiss. Strangely, Jazz had to force himself not to rear back. The resistant feeling quickly passed as their lips met, though.

As the kiss broke, Jazz gazed at Prowl adoringly. “‘Kay. Gonna go pass out for a bit.” He picked up one of his filled containers, and sauntered out of his old quarters down the hallway to what would be his new place from now on.

One of the doors opened, and Mirage stepped out. Jazz paused and smiled, only then realizing Mirage wasn’t leaving his own room. “Hey ‘Raj.”

“Jazz, moving I see,” Mirage said crossing over to him.

“Yeah. Gonna take a nap, though. Been feeling pretty sluggish,” Jazz replied.

“You’ll start to acclimate soon. How have things been? I mean, the whole crew knows about you and Prowl, but not, you know…” Mirage glanced at Jazz’s chest.

“Yeah, it’s been good. And Optimus thought it was best to wait on mentioning the _other_ thing, but at least he knows.” Jazz smiled. “Enough ‘bout me, who’s room were you in just now? _Hm?_ ”

Mirage scoffed at Jazz. “As if it’s any of your business!”

“Oh please,” Jazz replied, laughing.

Leaning in close, Mirage whispered into his audio. “I was showing Hound how to play _Go_. Nothing else is going on. Get your processor out of the gutter.”

Jazz snorted. “The places my processor has been, you got no idea!”

Mirage then took the container out of Jazz’s hands. “Alright, show me this new place of yours.”

“Sure, this way,” Jazz replied. “And thanks,” he added gesturing to the container now in Mirage’s grasp.

They continued to the end of the hall, and he entered the code in the keypad. The door whooshed open and they proceeded inside.

“It’s huge.” Mirage looked around with bright optics. “Wait, it’s more than one room?”

“Yeah, this is the front room, then the berthroom is back there and he’s got a small private washrack, too,” Jazz replied.

“Maybe I should’ve flirted with Prowl not you,” Mirage teased as he peered into the berthroom.

“Ha, ha,” Jazz replied in a dry tone.

Mirage lifted up the container in his arms. “Where do you want this?”

“Prowl has me putting my stuff over here for right now,” Jazz said, pointing a small pile of other containers.

“Can’t wait to come hang out when you’re all unpacked,” Mirage replied, setting the container in the specified place.

“Maybe you, me, Prowl and _Hound_ can have a board game night.” Jazz playfully poked Mirage’s side.

Mirage moved quickly, grabbing his hand, and spinning him around, pressing him up against the wall. “You’re getting slow.”

“Give me a break! I’m spark pulsing for two, you know,” Jazz replied.

Mirage chuckled. “Have you felt it yet?” he asked, loosening his grasp on his hand, but remaining partly pressed against Jazz.  

“No, not yet,” Jazz replied.

Mirage frowned. “Should be feeling something by now. Make sure you speak to Ratchet about it.”

“Speak to Ratchet? About what?” Prowl asked as he walked in with two containers in his grasp. He set them down on the pile and eyed Mirage. “And if you wouldn’t mind, Mirage, I’d prefer you let Jazz go.”

Sheepishly smiling, Mirage stepped back. “Just showing him I’m still the best he’s got in Special ops.”

“That you are,” Jazz replied with a grin.

Prowl knew Mirage liked Jazz, but had never been threatened by the playful flirting. He’d always trusted Jazz not to betray him, and vice versa. “So tell me, why should you see Ratchet?” Prowl asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Jazz replied. “As much fun as it is to hang out with my favoritest spy and the most handsome mech this side of Cybertron, I need to go lay down before I fall down.”

Mirage gently pat Jazz’s arm. “See you later, then.” He waved at Prowl and then gracefully swept out into the hall, and then out of sight.

Prowl pressed the controls to shut the door, and glanced at Jazz. “Go rest. I’ll clear some space in here for your things.”

Jazz tiredly smiled. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I’ll always do my best for _you_ ,” Prowl replied.  
Entering the berthroom, Jazz flopped front first on the large comfy berth and sighed. He was looking forward to not being so fragging tired all the time. This phase sucked so far. Rolling to his side, he curled up in a ball. What kind of life awaited them? What sort things were going to change once this wasn’t just a little ball of light on a screen? He touched his chest. _And why can’t I feel you yet?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz receives an upsetting diagnosis, and both he and Prowl struggle with the changes to their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a ton of chapters already written. So I'll post as I edit. The angst levels only get worse from here... Enjoy!

Weeks had passed since the huge blowout fight with the Decepticons. The front of the Ark was clear of rock, things were calm basewide after the 'Cons suffered such a thorough defeat, and Jazz was on his fourth week of living with Prowl. He might’ve had more of an opinion about such a huge life change if he’d been awake for more of it.

He was on reduced duty, but in the last few days his exhaustion had finally let up some. Stretching out on the berth, he sighed. Prowl was on the command deck for the day, leaving Jazz all on his own. He got up and wandered to the front room, staring at the containers of his things in the corner. Flopping on the small couch he frowned, and looked at the section of cabinets and inset shelves that Prowl had cleared out for him to use.

The weird thing was, he’d been so eager to move in here. He wanted legitimacy for this relationship, and now that he had it… it felt hollow. There was this ever increasing niggling voice in the back of his mind telling him he was only here now because he’d gotten sparked. For the most part he ignored it, but it was only getting worse not better. Plus…he was starting to worry about the sparking. “Four weeks later and I _still_ can’t feel you in there.”

Rubbing his face with both hands he huffed, annoyed at being in such a dour mood when this was supposed to be an exciting new life for him with Prowl. Instead he was feeling more and more isolated. He hadn’t actually seen much of Mirage or any of the crew since he’d moved in here, but that was mostly because he’d been recharging so much. Still, he missed hanging out, watching bad Earth movies with his comrades and generally being sociable.

The door to the room swooshed open, and Prowl smiled as he walked inside. “You’re up.”

“Thought you were on command deck for the day.” Jazz sat forward on the couch, mentally tucking his worries away.

“It’s almost evening,” Prowl replied with an amused smile as he walked over and reached out to pet one of Jazz’s helm horns.

He jerked at the touch, something that he noticed he’d been doing more and more when Prowl touched him. Prowl didn’t seem notice or else he didn’t mind.

“So you’re all mine for the evening, then?” Jazz asked.

“That I am.” Prowl sat down next to Jazz, and cupped his face, pulling him close for a kiss.

Prowl’s kisses usually left him feeling fluttery and dazed, but lately he felt nothing really. Pulling away after, he forced a smile.

“Would you be up for more than kisses?” Prowl asked, one hand sliding down Jazz’s body to settle on his abdomen.

Jazz frowned at the lack of appeal he felt in response. What was wrong with him? Normally he’d be revved and ready to go at the mere suggestion. “I dunno. Not sure I’m up for anything.”

He saw hurt flicker over Prowl’s face. This wasn’t his first refusal of Prowl's advances. Four weeks here and not once had they interfaced, but not for lack of trying on Prowl's part.

Prowl withdrew from Jazz and stood back up, his doorwings held low. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a pass through the washrack.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jazz replied.

Prowl ducked into the washrack room, leaving Jazz alone again. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and disappear. Something wasn’t right. Eons of being together where every moment had felt intoxicating and wonderful now stood in stark contrast to how numb he felt. When he heard the water go on, Jazz made the rash decision to bolt from Prowl’s quarters.

He wasn’t sure where he was going as he half-jogged down the hallway, he just knew he needed to get away from Prowl. To have some space to think. He nearly collided with Red Alert as he exited the barracks.

“Sorry!” Jazz said.

Red Alert looked mildly confused, then pushed past him in a huff.

“Yeesh.” Jazz then walked quickly through the base toward the Special Ops prep room. It was someplace he felt safe, and someplace no one should currently be in.

Walking in, sure enough it was empty. Jazz wandered over to the middle bench and sat down heavily. He buried his face in hands, questioning everything. “It all changed when you happened. Is it you? Did you do this to me and Prowl?” Jazz asked the sparkling he still couldn’t sense.

“Jazz?”

He looked up, surprised to see Mirage. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Mirage looked worried as he stepped out from the washrack room attached to the prep area. “I’m here so I can bathe in peace, if you must know. The communal washracks are currently over capacity. A whole group of our comrades decided to go spinning out in the muddy mess outside thanks to all the rain.”

“Oh,” Jazz replied. He hugged his middle and looked down at the floor.

“Were you speaking to your sparkling just now?” Mirage asked as he cautiously sat down next to Jazz.

“The sparkling I still can’t feel? Yeah. I was.” Jazz felt tears pool on his optics, only then remembering he’d forgotten to put his visor on before he ran off. He quickly rubbed at his face, wiping away the tears before they escaped.

" _Still?_ " Mirage said, his voice pitching higher with worry.

“I thought everything was gonna be awesome, but it’s not.” Jazz sighed.

“Jazz, have you started to feel... _detached_ from Prowl?” Mirage asked.

Jazz turned to look at Mirage, optics bright. “For the love of Primus, don’t tell me that’s part of carrying, too!”

Mirage suddenly looked horrified. “ _Have_ your feelings for him waned?”

“Yes! No. I–” Jazz shook his head. “I don’t know. I have to fight the urge to pull away from him. We haven’t ‘faced once since I moved in, and not because I’m tired. It’s because I don’t turn into the molten puddle I usually do for him. I just feel indifferent. Please don’t tell me this is how it goes…”

“It’s not.” Mirage turned partway to better face Jazz. “Remember when I asked about your parents?”

Jazz frowned and nodded.

“I wondered if you’d been selected as a Surrogate.” Mirage lightly touched Jazz’s knee.

Jazz stilled, looking at Mirage’s hand. Whenever Prowl touched him like that, he had to fight the urge to yank away. Why didn't he feel like that with Mirage? "What's a Surrogate?"

“Surrogate programming is insidious. It makes the carrier of a sparkling indifferent and numb to the mech who sparked him and blocks the emotional bond between the carrier and the sparkling itself so they’ll give it up without protest,” Mirage replied.

Jazz stared at him. “What? _Why?_ ”

“Surrogates are chosen when they are very young by the nobility. Usually they have a physical trait they would like incorporated into their sparklines, like... _beautiful optics_. Once a sparkling is identified, the programming is installed, and they are brought to live with the noble family that has chosen them for breeding.” Mirage sadly frowned. “There are many things about my particular class that I am not in agreement with. Surrogacy is one.”

“So what, some noble picked me out and then dumped me at that orphanage when they decided they didn’t want me?” Jazz asked.

Mirage shook his head. “In my experience, Surrogates are very well cared for until adulthood. As soon as they are in their adult upgrades, they’re sparked. Once they produce a healthy sparkling, a Programmer will come and strip the Surrogate code so they can live normal lives again. My own brother had a Surrogate, and he not only raised it from sparklinghood, but he gave the family he came from a yearly stipend. Once my brother had his desired sparkling, the Surrogate was released from his contract, programming stripped, and given a very large monetary reward.”

“That’s fragged up. Like, really, _really_ fragged up,” Jazz replied.

“I agree with you down the core of my spark. It’s a sick behavior borne of money and privilege,” Mirage replied.

“So, if it’s really this thing, this code making me feel like this, then I just need it stripped out, right?” Jazz asked, hopeful.

“In theory, yes,” Mirage replied.

“Well, Ratch can fix me up then, right?” Jazz started to stand up, ready to sprint to medbay to have everything set back how it should be.

Mirage stood up with him and slowly shook his head. “If you do have Surrogacy programming, only a trained Programmer can remove it. Ratchet is a medic. He can do basic programming, but I don’t know if he’d be able to strip it for you.”

Jazz started to tear up again.

Mirage’s optics brightened and he took hold of Jazz’s hand. “Whether Ratchet can remove it or not, let’s first see if that’s really what’s going on. Besides, for all we know, there’s a Programmer back on Cybertron we can try to get here for you.”

Rubbing his face, Jazz fought to gain control of himself. The idea that some piece of programming was robbing him of not only being able to sense his sparkling but destroy his long-standing love of Prowl made him feel almost sick. “I want answers.”

Mirage firmly nodded. “Let’s go see Ratchet.”

…

Medbay was quiet when they arrived. First Aid was on duty, not Ratchet. Mirage knew they needed the elder medic's help and expertise over his younger protege.

"First Aid, would you comm Ratchet? Jazz needs to see him," Mirage said.

Jazz leaned a little into Mirage's side. He knew him well enough to recognize this wasn't normal behavior. Jazz had never been clingy with him, but he obliged the unspoken request, sliding a comforting arm around his friend's waist.

First Aid led them to one of the private exam rooms to wait while he called for Ratchet. They down side by side on the berth, and Mirage took hold of Jazz’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"If it's what you think it is, I wonder if there are any of those Programmers even left," Jazz said, frowning.

"I'm sure there are," Mirage replied. He knew for a fact there was one still very much alive, but he wasn't going to suggest that mech's name unless there were literally no other options left.

Rubbing his chest, Jazz dimmed his optics. “Give me a battalion of ‘Cons over this slag any day.”

“I’m sure this will all get figured out. Ratchet is the very best medic I’ve ever met. If anyone will know what to do, it’ll be him,” Mirage said, trying to reassure his friend.

“What a nice vote of confidence,” Ratchet said as he walked in with a smile. He took one look at Jazz’s un-visored, miserable expression and his smile faded to a look of concern. He grabbed a stool and pulled it over, sitting down across from Jazz. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Somethin’ is wrong with me,” Jazz replied. “I can’t feel the sparkling for starters.”

Ratchet slowly nodded, gaze pinned on Jazz. “What else?”

“Things are fallin’ apart between me an’ Prowl,” Jazz replied. “I don’t want him near me. I can barely keep myself from shoving him off me when he tries to even just kiss me. And I flinch at every little touch.”

Ratchet’s gaze then shifted to Mirage’s hand holding Jazz’s. “Other mechs can touch you and it’s okay, though?” he asked, looking back up at Jazz.

“Yeah,” Jazz quietly replied.

Sighing, Ratchet rubbed his chin for a moment. “If it’s alright, I’d like to ask Wheeljack to come in and help me look at your core programming.”

“That’s fine, I guess.” Jazz half-frowned. “You know what it might be? Is it what ‘Raj thinks? Some weird programming thing?”

Ratchet pursed his lips slightly as he gave Mirage a disapproving look for his ‘pre-diagnosis’. “I believe you _might_ have latent Surrogacy programming. I assume he filled you in what that means already.”

Jazz squeezed Mirage’s hand hard. “Yeah.”

“Sit tight, and I’ll call Wheeljack in and then we’ll take a look at your core programming, alright?” Ratchet gently touched one of Jazz’s knees.

“Sure.” Jazz quietly replied.

Once Ratchet left the room, Jazz's entire body sagged under the weight of what was happening.

"One way or another, everything will alright," Mirage said, trying to assure Jazz.

"Wish I was as sure as you are about it," Jazz replied. "Feels like everything is slipping away and I’ve got no control over it."

"You've got me, no matter what," Mirage offered.

Sadly smiling at Mirage, Jazz squeezed their still linked hands. "Thanks for bein' here with me. You're goin’ above and beyond."

"I'm just doing what a good friend should," Mirage replied. _A good friend with an undeniable crush_...he mentally added. Still, he'd do anything for Jazz, regardless of his unrequited feelings.

…

Prowl patted his plating dry after calming himself as much as possible with a cold-water wash. Steeling himself to return to the awkwardness that had become his life with Jazz, he stepped out of the private washrack, crossed the berthroom and entered the front living area only to find it empty.

Doorwings sagging low, Prowl felt both upset and relieved at the same time. Jazz had left without saying a word, but this also meant he didn’t have to put on a false face and act as if he didn’t see the disdain and distrust Jazz now regarded him with.

He’d fragged everything up by trying to keep their relationship secret.

Sadly gazing at the untouched containers of Jazz’s belongings, he sighed. How could he ever right what he’d done? It was clear Jazz was unhappy with him. If only he’d not been such a coward, and been willing to bend. Jazz deserved so much more than he’d given him over the eons. Forcing him to sneak into his quarters, making him stay at a distance, and all to try and keep from falling too deeply in love. Not that it had worked. He felt a pang deep in his spark for Jazz, and a foreboding fear that he’d lost the one mech that meant the world to him.

He sat down heavily on the couch, holding his head in his hands. As much as he didn’t want to face the possibility of losing his only love, he also knew they couldn’t go on like this. Pretending things were alright when they were so clearly not wasn’t going to fix what was wrong. Sparkling complicating the situation or not, they were going to need to talk.  

…

“There. Zoom in on this section,” Wheeljack said.

“Here?” Ratchet asked.

“Yeah, and then go into this portion and open up the coding packet,” Wheeljack replied.

Jazz dimly lit his optics, greeted with the sight of Mirage sitting on the edge of the medical berth he was lying on. “Did I doze off?” Jazz whispered.

Mirage half-smiled. “Just for a few minutes.”

“I miss anything important?” Jazz asked, reaching up and fingering the cord Ratchet had plugged into the base of his neck.

“Don’t fiddle with the cord, Jazz,” Ratchet warned without looking away from the computer console screen.

“Feels weird having you swimming around inside my systems,” Jazz said with a frown.

“I don’t think you missed anything. They appear to be lost,” Mirage replied.

“We’re not lost!” Ratchet retorted. “Core programming is layered and complicated.”

“This packet isn’t it. Let’s try backing out and there was another one that looked like it might be it,” Wheeljack said, ignoring the side conversation.

Ratchet grumbled as his fingers swiftly moved over the controls.

Jazz rubbed his face with one hand, cursing how exhausted he felt.

“You should rest if you’re tired,” Mirage said, gaze pinned on Jazz. “Second phase can be rough, but the more you rest now, the sooner the exhaustion should start to ease up.”

Ratchet glanced over, eyeing Mirage for a moment. Jazz wondered if he knew Mirage had been sparked before or not. By the look on his face, though, Jazz guessed not.

“That’s it. Enlarge this section of code,” Wheeljack said, drawing Ratchet’s attention back to the screen.

“Are you sure? I can’t even read that and I _know_ basic programming. What language is that?” Ratchet asked.

“Ancient dialect of Cybertronian. Nobles like to use it in their programming sequences,” Wheeljack replied, disappointment lacing his voice. “Here.” Wheeljack pressed a finger to the screen. “That’s it. Surrogate programming _is_ running its sequences. Emotional protocol line for co-creator: off. Emotional protocol for sparkling connection: off.”

“So turn ‘em back on,” Jazz replied, unable to repress the anger and desperation in his voice.

“It’s not that simple,” Wheeljack replied. He looked at Jazz. “I’ve studied programming for a long time, but I’m _no_ Programmer. To mess around with the core of who you are requires someone with experience and expertise. Even if I had the know how to turn these back on, the Surrogate programming is deeply integrated and may just re-initiate these parameters. The invasive coding itself needs to be removed.”

Hope slipping further from his grasp, Jazz grimaced. “So remove it and then turn those things back on. What’s so hard about that?”

“The Surrogate programming is in pieces all over and in and around your core programming modules. If we start editing code without the knowledge to do it safely we could render you a drone by the time we’re done. Someone who’s been trained as a Programmer can precisely pinpoint the code and eradicate it,” Ratchet replied.

Jazz looked away from Ratchet, staring off into nowhere. He was going to lose everything that mattered to him, and he was completely helpless to stop it.  

“What are some options?” Mirage asked as he gently pet Jazz’s arm.

“We have Prime put out a call back on Cybertron to locate a Programmer for us,” Ratchet replied.

“And in the meantime, I can try writing some script code to try and bypass the Surrogate programming. Not sure how successful it would be, but it’s worth a shot,” Wheeljack added.

Jazz then looked at each of them, realizing they all wanted to help. He felt overwhelmed by how much they cared and smiled a little. “You guys are the best. And, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this mess inside me. Any help is appreciated.”

“One way or another, this will be dealt with,” Ratchet said confidently.

“Think it would be okay if I recharged in medbay for a while?” Jazz asked. He was barely able to keep his optics lit, feeling physically and emotionally drained by all the unhappy news.

Ratchet unplugged the cord and nodded. “Let’s get you set up in one of the private rooms.”

Shuffling from the exam area, Jazz was led into another room with a berth and set of monitoring equipment. He flopped front first and sighed as all the tension bled from his frame.

Ratchet placed a thermal blanket at the foot of the berth. “If you need anything, First Aid will be here the rest of the evening.”

“Thanks, Ratch,” Jazz replied.

Mirage lingered in the doorway after Ratchet exited. “You want me to stay with you?”

Jazz considered the offer for a moment, knowing full well Mirage’s attentiveness was about more than their close friendship. At the same time, being all alone held no appeal, either. “Sure.” He pushed over in the berth making room for Mirage.

“Oh, no need to do that.” Mirage pulled one of the comfy chairs from the corner of the room to side of the berth and sat down.

“Guess I should comm Prowl and tell ‘im I’m in medbay and not coming back to his quarters,” Jazz said with a deep frown.

“Would you like me to do it?” Mirage offered.

“I would, but I shouldn’t be _that_ much of an aft,” Jazz replied. He rolled over onto his back, and opened his comm link to ping Prowl.

::Jazz?:: Prowl replied, concern lacing his voice.

::Yeah, I, uh, wasn’t feeling too good and ended up comin’ to medbay. Ratch wants me to stay overnight and rest, :: he half-lied.

::Are you alright?:: Prowl’s voice pitched with worry.

::Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just need to rest more and since I was here, I figured I should just stay,:: Jazz quickly replied.

There was a long pause. ::Would you like me to come to medbay?:: Prowl asked.

::Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow. ‘kay?:: Jazz tried to sound positive, but wondered if it sounded as faked as he felt saying it.

::If you’re sure...:: Prowl replied.

::Yeah. Don’t worry ‘bout me. Just chill out and do your own thing tonight while I crash out here.::

There was another long silence. ::Okay. I love you, Jazz.::

Now it was Jazz’s turn to pause, his spark aching at those words. He remembered loving Prowl, but right now he felt nothing for him, which only filled him with massive amounts of guilt and regret. ::Love you more,:: he replied.

::Rest well.:: Prowl then cut the line before Jazz could answer.

Tears pooled on his optics again, and he wiped them away with both hands.

A hand gently touched Jazz’s helm. “Not that I could hear, but I assume it didn’t go very well,” Mirage said, gently fingering one of Jazz’s helm horns.

“He knows when I’m lyin’,” Jazz replied. “You know what sucks the most slag about all this?”

“What?” Mirage responded.

“I _remember_ lovin’ him. Remember how his kisses would melt me into a puddle of molten goo, or when we’d share sparks the massive amount of love that filled my chest wiped out any silly doubts I might’ve had. I remember _everything_ about lovin’ him, but I can’t fragging feel any of it now. This is worse than anything the ‘Cons have done to me when I got caught behind enemy lines.” Jazz rolled to his side and curled in on himself.

Mirage continued to pet Jazz’s helm. “I’m sorry, Jazz.”

“Not your fault,” he quietly replied, his optics dimming with the need for recharge.

“Rest for right now.” Mirage leaned in, kissing Jazz on the forehelm.

It was a surprisingly comforting gesture, and Jazz faintly smiled before he succumbed to the exhaustion and finally escaped his fragged up mess of a life, slipping offline.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trial and error methods with only partial results for Jazz's new condition leaves Prowl spark broken.

Prowl hadn’t seen Jazz since their brief encounter the evening before. He was worried and anxious about the whole situation, questioning everything that had happened, and overanalyzing every second of the night before. Had his advances driven Jazz out of their quarters? Perhaps there was there something terribly wrong with Jazz or the sparkling? Or was it as simple as Jazz wanting to avoid him? Pushing his mounting worries aside, he gathered up his reports to present at the command staff meeting and left his office.

Stepping inside the conference room, his spark flip flopped at the sight of Jazz sitting at the table next to Ratchet. They were quietly chatting, and Jazz appeared agitated by whatever Ratchet said to him.

Knocked forward a step from behind, Prowl gave Ironhide an indignant look.

“Sorry, you’re just standin’ in the doorway not moving. Wasn’t gonna wait forever,” Ironhide replied with a half smile as he took a seat.

Prowl fluffed his doorwings in irritation, and then glanced back over at Jazz. Their gazes met for a fleeting moment, but Jazz quickly looked away, frowning as he fingered the edge of the table.

Doorwings lowering in response, he sat down and he stared at his pile of datapads, fighting to maintain control over his spiraling emotions.

Optimus entered last and sat down at the head of the table. “Thank you all for coming. Let’s get right to it. Ironhide, please report on the base status.”

“Base is secure and fully repaired. Percy and ‘Jack installed some new parameters for the forcefield that’ll help deflect somethin’ as strong as a bomb next time,” Ironhide replied.

“Good to hear.” Optimus then looked at Prowl. “And the status off base?”

“Quiet. I have gathered various sightings reports from around the globe of potential places Decepticons maybe gathering.” Prowl easily fell into his professional mode, setting his personal issues aside as he spoke. “There has not been any significant activity other than Powerglide identifying the current space bridge location.” Prowl pushed his datapads over to Optimus.

Optimus nodded, accepting them graciously. “I will review these after our meeting.” He then looked to Ratchet. “And how is the general health of the crew?”

“Good. I have been doing various maintenance like I usually do, while also dealing with an unfolding situation. Which, um, I would like to put in a request for you to contact Magnus and see if they can locate a Programmer for us to smuggle here,” Ratchet replied.

Optimus’ optics brightened. “A Programmer? For what purpose do you need one?”

Ratchet frowned. “I’d rather not say here, but trust me, it’s important.”

Ratchet, Optimus, himself were the only ones aware that Jazz was sparked as far as Prowl knew. The rest of the crew hadn’t been informed yet. He’d preferred to do this all in steps, first moving in together and later revealing Jazz’s condition once they’d settled in. But things hadn’t happened according to plan.

“I will send a request to Ultra Magnus,” Optimus confirmed.

Prowl frowned, wanting to know if this request was related to Jazz or not.

“Jazz, I know you’ve been on reduced duty, but is there anything you’d like to add?” Optimus asked.

“Nah. Things bein’ quiet means no missions or anything. Just been gettin’ Mirage to help train Blue a little more so he can help us if a mission does come up,” Jazz replied.

“Excellent.” Optimus picked up the small stack of datapads. “Is there anything else?”

Everyone shook their heads ‘no’.

“Alright, _dismissed_.” Optimus stood up.

Ironhide was first to leave, Optimus just behind him. Prowl slowly stood, noticing Jazz and Ratchet had stayed behind.

“Prowl, we need to have a little conversation in medbay,” Ratchet said, getting to his feet.

Prowl looked right at Jazz. “Is this about the sparkling?”

Jazz frowned. “Yeah, and other stuff we need to talk about.”

Prowl felt like his fuel tank dropped to the bottom of his gut. He nodded. “I’m free now.”

“Let’s go then,” Ratchet replied.

The walk to medbay was somber. Ratchet in front, Jazz in the middle and Prowl brought up the rear. Staring at Jazz’s back, he fought not to reach out and pull him into his arms, apologizing for everything he’d done wrong. When they entered, Ratchet led them both to a private room and shut the door.

Jazz plopped down on the berth, leaving room for Prowl next to him. Looking up, he sadly smiled and pat the open space. “You’re gonna wanna sit.”

Joining Jazz, Prowl carefully sat down. “What is going on?” he asked, his voice crackling slightly with his churning emotions.

Ratchet pulled over a stool and sat. “It turns out that Jazz has something called ‘Surrogate’ programming, which initiated when he was sparked.”

Prowl half-frowned. “‘Surrogate’ programming? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Guess the Praxian noble class weren’t into the same practices as Iacon or Polyhex, then.” Ratchet sighed. “Basically, when he was small some noble picked him out to breed into their family sparkline. Not sure how he ended up not living with whoever requested him, but now that he’s sparked, the programming kicked into gear.”

“Breed?” Prowl replied, somewhat horrified.

“Yeah, ‘Raj told me that some nobles buy off mechs to get an attribute into their sparklines. They pick ‘em out as sparklings and they get raised with the family that paid for ‘em,” Jazz replied.

“What does this programming do exactly?” Prowl asked, optics bright with concern for Jazz and their sparkling alike.

“It shuts down emotional protocols toward the mech that sparked him and he is unable to feel the sparkling’s presence, too.” Ratchet dimmed his optics, looking apologetic. “It’s a safeguard to make sure the mech being breeded will give up the sparkling willingly and not get attached to whoever sparked him.”

Prowl’s gaze shifted to Jazz. He felt tears rising to the surface, but fought them back. “Is that why you’ve been-- why you keep pulling away from me?”

Jazz nodded, staring at the floor.

“How can we fix this? There must be a way to remove this Surrogate programming, right?” Prowl asked, desperation bleeding into his voice.

“That’s why we need a Programmer. They can strip the code out safely. Hopefully Optimus will find us one. In the meantime, Wheeljack is working on writing something to install and hopefully bypass the coding.” Ratchet then sadly frowned. “But I think for both your sakes, it’s best if Jazz stays here in medbay until we install and test what Wheeljack is working on.”

“I’m really sorry, Prowl.” Jazz bit at his lip, not looking up at him. “I wish I’d known.”

Prowl balled his hands in his lap. “You don’t need to be sorry. I should be the one apologizing. I should’ve realized my spark might burn out an inhibitor. I just didn’t--”

“No one’s to blame here. Other than the aft noble that did this to Jazz and who’s probably long dead at this point,” Ratchet interrupted. “Prowl, I know your instinct is to stay here and try and help, but it’s only going to push the programming to more aggressively block emotions for Jazz.”

Reading between the lines, Prowl nodded. He stood up and gazed at the mech who’d captured his spark. He honestly didn’t know how he was going to cope with such a huge loss if they were unable to find a solution. “I love you,” Prowl whispered.

Jazz looked utterly miserable as he finally met Prowl’s gaze. “I know.”

Spark broken, Prowl left the room and swiftly crossed medbay toward the exit.

“Prowl,” Ratchet called out as he jogged to catch up. “Look, don’t lose hope. We’re gonna figure this out.”

“Thank you, Ratchet.” Prowl dimmed his optics. “I need some time alone right now. So, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Sure,” Ratchet replied.

Prowl wandered back to his office in a daze. Once inside he shut and locked the door, pressing his forehelm to the wall, he broke down in tears. His love was being ripped away from him by _coding_? How was this even remotely fair? “Why, Primus?” he whispered as pain roiled through his entire being. How was he supposed to go on in the face of losing the only mech he’d ever given himself to? The only mech he’d ever _loved_? He softly sobbed, broken inside in a way he didn’t even know was possible.

...

“So I’m hoping what I came up will bypass some of the bad code,” Wheeljack said as he uploaded what he wrote to the medical computer.

Jazz hadn’t left medbay in two days. Mirage had stopped in to check on him several times, and he even brought Bluestreak on one occasion. Though, they’d carefully avoided explaining why Jazz was currently being kept under observation in the young Praxian’s presence.

“I’m going to delve into your systems now, Jazz,” Ratchet warned.

Laid out on a berth beside the medical computer console, he braced himself for unsettling sensation of not being alone inside his own frame. He tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy when he could feel Ratchet’s computer reaching inside him, burrowing deep into his core programming. It took several minutes, and Jazz found himself wishing someone was here to comfort him.

“I think in here would be good,” Wheeljack said, pointing at the screen Jazz couldn’t quite see from his angle.

Ratchet nodded. “Jazz, I’m going to deploy the code Wheeljack wrote. It’s going to feel a little like when I install firewalling, but probably more intense since it’s so close to core programming.”

Jazz curtly nodded, hands curling into fists as he tried to brace himself.

A steady pressure built inside his systems, then a burst of data flooded through him, causing him to wince. The foreign bypass coding overwhelmed him at first, then, as it seated itself, the discomfort faded. The dark emotions he’d felt toward the mere the thought of Prowl touching him tapered off to more of an indifference. Then things grew dim and he felt like everything was flickering inside and outside his frame. It wasn’t until he heard his name being repeated that he cycled his optics back on, not having remembered offlining them in the first place. He peered up at Ratchet and Wheeljack staring down at him.

“Jazz, please respond to me. I need to know if we damaged you,” Ratchet said, with wide, bright optics.

“Frag, Ratch. I had no idea it would force him into a reboot!” Wheeljacks’s headfins flashed wildly.

“I’m okay… I think,” Jazz replied, voice riddled with small traces of static. He cleared his vocalizer. “What the frag just happened?”

Ratchet sighed, relief washing over his face. “Thank Primus. The coding integrated then forced you into a reboot sequence.” He then pressed a hand to Jazz’s chest. “I need to scan and be sure we didn’t harm the sparkling.”

Jazz nodded and opened his chestplates for Ratchet without hesitation.

Wheeljack heaved a loud sigh. “Sorry, Jazz. I didn’t think it would do that to you.”

“No harm done,” Jazz replied. “Actually, I feel… lighter? Like, I dunno. Better, I think?”

“Really?” Wheeljack asked, sounding happy.

Ratchet scanned his spark for a long moment. “The sparkling is alright. Still healthy, and bigger than before, too.” He pulled the scanner away and gestured for Jazz to shut his chest. “Can you feel it?”

Jazz frowned a little. “No.”

“It’s only a bypass, Ratch. I can’t write anything that would be able to _turn on_ the protocol that’s blocking the connection,” Wheeljack explained. He then looked at Jazz. “I hopefully bypassed some of the emotional protocols affecting how you feel.”

“Think it worked. I do feel less like throwing myself into a ditch,” Jazz replied.

“The real test is having you spend some time with Prowl.” Ratchet offered his hand to help Jazz sit up.

Jazz took hold, and pulled himself upright. “And if I still feel repulsed by him? Then what?”

“Repulsed?” Ratchet repeated, looking worried. “That’s how you felt?”

Jazz bit at his lip and nodded.

“Well, hopefully the bypass will be a stop gap until we get a Programmer here to set things right,” Ratchet replied, trying but mostly failing at sounding reassuring.

"This mean I can finally leave medbay?" Jazz asked.

"I want to keep you here until tomorrow, do a test with Prowl present then I'll let you know my final assessment."

Jazz frowned but nodded his agreement. He was tired of being trapped here, but he understood Ratchet was only looking out for his well being.

He pushed to stand and canted his head at Ratchet. "Is it cool if I go nap in my little room then?"

Ratchet smiled a little. "Of course."

Wandering to the private room in the back of medbay that he'd been calling home, he flopped onto the berth and sighed. He did feel different. More like himself. But he still couldn't feel anything more than a general numbness when he thought of Prowl. Rolling to his back on the berth, he stared up at the ceiling, curious how Prowl was handling this. Knowing him, he was probably working long hours in an attempt to avoid facing his emotions. Even if he didn't love Prowl now, he still knew him better than anyone.

…

Prowl sat up with a start in his desk chair. He stared at his office door, listening as it buzzed yet again. He rubbed his face with both hands, frowning. He’d fallen into recharge right at his desk. He straightened his posture and tried to shake off the sensation of exhaustion before he pressed the remote release, letting the door open.

Optimus stepped inside without a word, and leveled a knowing look at his Second. He then tapped the controls at the door and it snapped back shut. Optimus sat himself down in a visitor seat and sighed. “Prowl, you cannot recharge in your office. Or run yourself into the ground.”

Sagging at being caught, Prowl dimmed his optics. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“Not returning to your quarters when your shift was over was unintentional?” Optimus asked in a stern but caring tone.

“I can’t... I can’t go in there until I things are how they should be again,” Prowl quietly replied. Optimus was one of only a few fully aware of the current situation regarding the sparkling and the recent news of Jazz’s Surrogate coding taking hold of him.

“I understand this is difficult. To be perfectly honest, I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you, but working until you drop into stasis isn’t healthy.” Optimus dimmed his optics a little as he folded his hands in his lap. “I need you at my side, Prowl.”

Doorwings lowering, Prowl nodded.

“I didn’t just buzz you awake to check on you, though,” Optimus added. “I’m here because Ratchet is looking for you. He and Wheeljack have successfully deployed a set of bypass coding, and Ratchet would like for you stop by medbay so they can test its effectiveness.”

Prowl internally cringed at that. He was barely holding it together as it was and he knew seeing Jazz right now might tip him over the edge into complete despair.

“Would you...like me to go with you?” Optimus offered.

Prowl met his leader and friend’s gaze, slowly nodding. “Please.”

Warmth colored Optimus’ optics as he stood up. “You can lean on me as much as you need to. I hope you know that.”

Getting to his feet, Prowl sadly smiled as he rounded his desk. “That’s an offer you may regret making.”

Optimus put a large arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “I would never regret helping you through a difficult time. I’m here for whatever it’s worth to you.”

Prowl leaned into the partial hug, appreciating the care and affection Optimus was offering him in a way he couldn’t adequately express. “Thank you,” he lamely replied.  

…

Nervously fingering his thighs, Jazz sat in Ratchet’s office waiting for Prowl to arrive. Ratchet was busily reading up on the subject of sparklings and carriers as they waited, which only added to Jazz’s unease when he’d see what was on the computer screen in his peripheral.

Finally Prowl walked into medbay with Optimus just behind him. Their gazes met through Ratchet’s open office door, and Jazz was relieved to not feel the overwhelming need to look away this time.

They walked in, and Ratchet looked up, optics brightening at the sight of Optimus. He then started to stand, but Optimus held up a hand to stop him. “I’m just here as support.”

Jazz frowned, seeing how exhausted Prowl looked.

“Of course,” Ratchet replied. He gestured to the empty chair beside Jazz. “Prowl, have a seat.”

Prowl carefully sat down and then fixed his gaze on his hands in his lap.

Optimus stayed, standing just inside the door and watching both of them carefully. Jazz had never felt so self conscious before, squirming slightly in his seat.

“The bypass code installed is only meant to buy us some time while we locate a Programmer,” Ratchet explained. “Prowl, I need to have you and Jazz spend a few minutes together alone to see how well this is or isn’t working. Are you up for that?”

Prowl nodded. “Yes.”

Optimus gently pat Prowl’s arm, and Ratchet got to his feet. “Five minutes should be enough. We’ll be right outside.” They stepped out and the door slid shut with Jazz and Prowl inside.

Jazz turned in his seat to better face Prowl. “You don’t look like you’ve recharged in days.”

Turning his head, Prowl faintly smiled. “I haven’t.”

“Primus, Prowl. I never meant for any of this to happen. I thought–” Jazz frowned. “–we’d always have each other. I had no fraggin’ clue I had this stupid code inside me.”

“I know.” Prowl softly sighed. “A lot of this is my fault, though. I should never have hidden our relationship.”

Guilt filled Jazz’s chest. Prowl hadn’t done _anything_ wrong. “We hid it because it made sense. It only stopped makin’ sense to me after I got sparked. This isn’t on you.”

Prowl pressed his lips tight, which Jazz knew was his way of holding in his emotions. As good as it felt not to want to go running the other way in Prowl’s presence, it still wasn’t the intense love his spark craved. It felt so strange to know in his mind this mech was the one he loved, but not actually be able to feel it, all while leaving his spark aching.

“Is... what they installed helping?” Prowl cautiously asked after a long quiet moment.

Jazz nodded. “Sorta. I don’t wanna run away now. But, I still can’t feel anything toward you, which is pretty weird. Plus, my spark kinda hurts.”

Prowl’s optics brightened a little at that. He then looked at Jazz’s chest. “Can you feel the sparkling at all?”

“Nope.” Jazz rubbed the blue stripe over the middle of his chestplate. “‘Jack said he couldn’t turn on the protocols that’re off. He just bypassed some of the emotional controls.”

“I see,” Prowl replied. A serious expression swept his handsome features. “I want you to know I will raise our sparkling no matter how things end up between us.”

Jazz smiled at that. “I hope they end with me being back to who I was. Back with you.”

Prowl’s optics became glassy with held back tears. “So do I.”

The door to the office opened, and Ratchet peered in. “Time’s up.” He came in, looking hopeful. “Jazz? How’s the bypass doing?”

“It’s working mostly,” Jazz replied.

“His spark is hurting, though,” Prowl added, concerned.

“Yeah, it feels achy.” Jazz half-shrugged. “Is that bad?”

The hope on Ratchet’s face faded to concern. “Let me go get the scanner. I’ll take a look.”

He stepped out and Optimus walked in. Folding his hands behind his back, Optimus’ optics curved, indicating his hidden smile as he looked at Jazz. It seemed almost as if he wanted to say something, but if so, he didn’t get a chance. Ratchet returned with scanner in hand and stood in front of Jazz.

“Open up,” Ratchet commanded.

Jazz frowned, getting a little tired of being bossed around. He sat up straight and let his chestplates part, exposing his spark chamber beneath. He noticed Prowl stiffen and watch. “You can look in if you want. Especially since I can’t see or feel it,” Jazz said, gesturing to Prowl.

Prowl scooted to the edge of his seat, and peered into Jazz’s open chest. He covered his lips with his white fingertips. “I see it,” Prowl said in a hushed voice. “It’s so tiny.” He then looked up at Jazz and their gazes met, which in turn caused a sharp pain to radiate in his spark.

“Your spark looks fine, but I am getting some strange readings,” Ratchet said after a moment. “Has it been hurting since the bypass code was installed?”

“Nah,” Jazz said. “Happened when Prowl came in,” he admitted.

Realization blossomed over Ratchet’s face. “Your spark recognizes him, but the coding is suppressing what would be an emotional response.”

“What does that mean for them?” Optimus asked, obviously curious and concerned.

Ratchet pulled the scanner away. “You can close up,” he said to Jazz. “What it means? Core programming interprets the impulses of our processor and sparks. Medically speaking, Jazz’s Surrogate programming is blocking the spark’s ability to manifest it’s impulses. In other words, his spark loves Prowl and being near him it’s trying to get Jazz to feel it, but the programming is brutally blocking it, causing the ache.”

Jazz rubbed his closed chestplate and deeply frowned.

Prowl looked almost horrified. “My presence is _literally_ hurting him?”

“Pretty much,” Ratchet replied. “I was hoping I could give the go ahead to let you two resume living side by side, but that kind of pain will affect the sparkling. I don’t think it would be wise.”

All the hope that had glimmered when Prowl first arrived faded away for both of them. They sat in silence for a moment, then suddenly Prowl spoke as he stood up. “If anything changes, please inform me, Ratchet. I need… I need to go now.” He didn’t even look at Jazz before bolting from the office.

Jazz sagged, knowing Prowl left to protect him and the sparkling. When the pain faded in Prowl’s absence, he sunk further in his seat. “Optimus, would you… look after him? Be sure Prowl is okay? Please?” Jazz asked.

Optimus nodded. “It would be my honor.” He clasped Jazz’s shoulder with his large hand and squeezed. “We will find a Programmer and set everything right again.”

“I hope so,” Jazz quietly replied.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadness overtakes Jazz and he tries to cope.

Dirt and grime swirled at Mirage's feet. Nothing beat a nice long soak after patrol duty. He also wanted to look his best before heading to medbay to see Jazz. Turning the water off, he grabbed a drying cloth and patted himself down.

It was silly to still be so smitten with someone completely unattainable, but Mirage was aware that was a large part of the attraction for him. It was safe to flirt with Jazz. His friend always flirted back, but never crossed the line. Mirage hadn't known about Prowl, but it made perfect sense after he found out, explaining the ‘why’ of his mentor’s behavior.

Pushing the cloth over own chest, he paused, reminded of his own loss. He tried to avoid thinking about the sparkling that he'd once held and loved more than anything before or since, but with Jazz’s current condition he found his memories creeping up on him more often.

"Mirage?" Hound stood at the entrance to his stall. "Everything alright? You look upset."

Mirage lowered the drying cloth, unfurled it and hung it over the stall wall to dry out. “I’m fine.” He glanced at Hound’s mud-covered legs and tire wheel wells. “Out running around in Earth swamps?” he asked with a smile.

Hound rubbed the back of his helm, chuckling. “Pretty obvious, huh?”

“So was it for pleasure or duty? Or perhaps both?” Mirage asked.

Broadly smiling, Hound’s optics grew bright as he gazed at Mirage. “Both, of course.”

Mirage chuckled in reply and stepped out of the stall. “I’d offer to help you clean up, but I have an appointment I need to get to.”

“No worries. Trailbreaker said he’d come help me. But, uh, thanks. I might take you up on your not-quite-an-offer one day,” Hound replied.

“You can call it an official offer that comes with rain check for another time,” Mirage affirmed.

“And you’re really okay?” Hound asked.

“Are any of us _really okay_?” Mirage responded, an air of sadness bleeding into his voice.

The smile on Hound’s face faded. “You ever wanna talk, I’m happy to be a friendly audio. I hope you know that.”

Mirage forced a smile and nodded. “You’re too kind-sparked.”

“Hound, there you are! I thought we were gettin’ energon first--Oh hey there Mirage,” Trailbreaker said as he entered the washrack.

“Energon _after_ we wash some of this swamp mud off,” Hound replied to his friend.

“I’ll see you,” Mirage said, nodding his goodbyes to both and then slipping out of the washracks.

He was no idiot, he knew full well Hound had developed a crush on him since they arrived on Earth, but he prefered the safety and comfort of his unrequited love. He felt far too damaged to inflict himself on someone as good natured as Hound. The things he’d done in Special Ops over the eons had twisted him into someone no longer appropriate for the kind of mech Hound was. Jazz, unlike everyone he’d met since joining the Autobots, understood. He’d been captured behind enemy lines, too. He knew what Decepticons did to prisoners of war.

Reaching medbay, Mirage carefully composed himself as he crossed to the back room Jazz had been staying in. He leaned against the open doorway and lightly tapped to get Jazz’s attention.

Jazz was lying on the berth staring up at the ceiling, having not noticed Mirage. At the tap he looked over and sadly smiled. “Hey there.”

“Hey there, yourself,” Mirage replied, entering and sitting on the berth next to Jazz. “They install the bypass coding?”

“Yeah,” Jazz replied in a flat tone.

“It didn’t work?” Mirage asked, canting his head.

“It works. Just doesn’t fix me,” Jazz replied.

“But if it works, then you can return to living with Prowl, right? Isn’t that what Ratchet said?” Mirage began to worry, seeing that Jazz wasn’t trying to cover his dour mood. Through all this, he’d faked his smiles and tried to act like things were okay as much as he could. Instead, he looked defeated.

“Funny thing happened when Prowl got near me. My spark started to hurt. Ratch said…” Jazz heavily sighed. “He said my spark recognizes Prowl as the one I love, but the coding is blocking it from letting me feel anything. So without any other options, it aches in pain.”

Mirage dimmed his optics. “Oh, Jazz. I’m sorry.”

Internally, Mirage fought with himself over telling Jazz he did know a Programmer right here on Earth. “Have they at least located a Programmer for you?”

“Not yet. It’s only been a few days, though,” Jazz replied.

Mirage nodded. “What will happen now?”

“I guess I go back to my old quarters. Try to pretend I’m not knocked up with a sparkling I can’t feel while losing the mech I love to some bits of coding that’s some slaghead’s idea of breeding a perfect family sparkline?” Jazz’s anger colored his tone, but mostly he sounded despondent.

Frowning, Mirage felt horrible for Jazz. “None of this is fair, but things will--”

“Things will be fine. I know, they’ll figure something out.” Jazz rubbed at his face for a moment. “‘Raj, I get that everyone is tryin’ to comfort me, but I think I need to wallow in some self pity for a while. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the positive cheerleading goin’ on, it’s just hard to force myself to be hopeful when I’ve lost everything.”

Mirage nodded and he got up, closing the door to the room. He then returned to the berth and crawled on, lying next to Jazz. Without a word, Jazz turned toward him, and Mirage wrapped his arms around the smaller, huddled mass of his friend. Whenever one of them had been particularly abused after being captured on missions, this was a sort of ritual they’d engage in after returning. Comfort along with a much needed moment of quiet to let the pain run it’s course went a long way toward emotionally stabilizing afterward.

This was different, though. Unlike missions that went sideways, there would be no healing after the fact. The Surrogate coding would continue to ravage Jazz until it was ultimately removed.

 _Should I tell him about the Programmer here on Earth?_ Mirage wondered. If Jazz knew who it was, he’d run off half-cocked and possibly get himself and the sparkling killed in the process. No, it was best to wait for now. As soon as it was clear there weren’t any options left, _then_ he’d tell Jazz everything.

…

Ratchet had finally released Jazz from medbay. There wasn’t anything left they could do for the moment, except wait. Optimus had let him know that for the time being he should resume living in his old quarters. He wandered through the base, most mechs giving him sympathetic looks as he passed. Everyone knew about him and Prowl now, but they didn’t know about the sparkling. And from the outside it looked like he and Prowl had split up after only a month together.

Reaching his old quarters, he put in his code and the door opened, revealing all the containers of his belongings neatly stacked inside. He stood in the doorway, unmoving as he stared at his things. This felt final. It felt like rejection. It was also making his spark hurt. “Frag this.”

He backed out of the room and walked with purpose toward the twin’s quarters at the end of one of the barrack corridors. They’d taken a half-destroyed suite for themselves for the extra space and more often than not had a stash of high-grade on hand. He stopped at the door and buzzed.

There was noise inside, but no one answered. He buzzed again and frowned.

The door finally opened and Sideswipe looked surprised to see Jazz. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I need a drink and some friendly company that’s not gonna go overboard trying to cheer me up,” Jazz answered honestly.

Behind Sideswipe, he noticed Sunstreaker peering at him.

“We were sort of busy?” Sideswipe said with a funny look on his face.

Jazz deflated at that. “Alright. Thanks anyway.” He turned away, wondering if Mirage was around, but he felt like he’d already burdened his friend enough.

The door to the twin’s room closed. He sighed and continued down the corridor, trying to decide what to do. The door opened again and Sideswipe stepped partway out. “Hey, ah, Jazz. You can come in if you want.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Jazz considered shrugging the belated invitation off, but with nowhere else to really go he decided to take Sideswipe up on the offer. He turned on his heel and returned to the twin’s quarters. Sideswipe stepped back, letting Jazz in, closing the door once he’d entered.

Jazz nodded a hello to Sunstreaker who grunted something that might be considered a greeting.

“So, what’s up?” Sideswipe asked.

“I know you two have a little side biz, making high-grade. I was hoping maybe you could share some with me?” Jazz asked. “Had a rough few days.”

“Prowl dump you? Or the other way around?” Sunstreaker asked.

“Sunny!” Sideswipe chided. “And sure. Lemmie grab a bottle.” Sideswipe swatted his brother’s helm then ducked into the attached berthroom.

“It was neither, if you really wanna know,” Jazz replied as he sat down on the couch across from the one Sunstreaker was occupying.

“Neither? Then why did you move out?” Sunstreaker asked.

“I think this one should be pretty good,” Sideswipe said emerging from the room with a bottle and three glasses. He set them on the table and poured out some for each of them.

“You want the truth?” Jazz replied to Sunstreaker as he graciously nodded to Sideswipe before taking the potent fuel he’d been offered.

“Truth works,” Sunstreaker replied, taking the glass Sideswipe handed him.

Jazz settled back against the comfy couch and took a long sip. It tingled and burned slightly as he swallowed. “Yum,” he said, before taking another long sip. He then looked at Sunstreaker. “You two are the center of the rumor mill, I dunno if I really should tell you.”

“ _What?_ ” Sideswipe replied, trying to sound offended, but clearly acting as he sat down next to his brother. “I take offense to such a baseless accusation.”

“Yeah, right,” Jazz replied, half-smiling. His fuel tank already felt warm from the high-grade, helping the edges of his pain grow fuzzier and less defined. “You mechs forget I know pretty much everyone’s dirty secrets on base and how those little secrets get passed ‘round.”

“Then we’ll just go with the story that Prowl was too strict for you and you couldn’t hack it,” Sunstreaker replied with a smirk.

“Maybe so,” Jazz replied. Glancing around the room, he noticed some large pieces of metal with paint smudged on them stacked up in the corner. “What’s all that?”

“Nothing,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Nothing, huh?” Jazz sharpened his gaze on the twins. “What were you two doing when I buzzed anyway?”

Matching looks of guilt met his question.

“Nothing. _Really_ ,” Sideswipe replied.

Jazz narrowed his optics behind his visor, extremely curious now. “Somethin’ against the rules? ‘Cause it’s not like I’m gonna go tell Prowl or anything.”

“We were just talking,” Sunstreaker answered.

“Yeah, talking,” Sideswipe replied. His gaze darted to over toward the stack of metal sheets for a brief moment, giving away whatever they’d been up to.

Jazz set his glass down on the small table between the couches and got up, wandering over to the corner.

“Jazz, wait!” Sideswipe set his glass down and was off the couch like there was a fire under his aft.

Sunstreaker sighed, and then downed the rest of his drink, resigned to the fact Jazz was going to figure out what had been going on.

Pulling the waist high stack back, Jazz’s optics brightened. They were a series of paintings. Not just any kind of paintings, though. The first one in the stack was from Sunstreaker’s point of view looking down between his legs at Sideswipe with his mouth full of his spike. Jazz flipped to the next one. It showed Sideswipe in the throes of an overload on a berth, body twisting with utter pleasure written on his face. The one after that was much looser in style, but it was clear the swipes of red and yellow were the two of them interfacing.

Sideswipe’s face fell as Jazz continued to look through the paintings. “It’s not what you think.”

“No?” Jazz replied, amused. He’d long suspected the pair of being intimately involved, but he’d never seen proof until now. “Looks like some beautiful paintings of two mechs passionately engaged. Am I wrong?” Jazz asked, leveling a look at Sideswipe.

“No, you’re not wrong,” Sunstreaker replied, folding his arms over his chest.

“By the looks of it, you’re the artist, Sunny?” Jazz asked as he continued to flip through the stack of paintings.

“Yep,” Sunstreaker replied.

“These are amazing,” Jazz said. “Honestly, they’re beautiful.”

“Really?” Sunstreaker asked, surprised by Jazz’s reaction.

“Sunny’s always been good at this kind of thing,” Sideswipe replied.

Jazz paused at a painting that was clearly the two spark-merging. “You guys merge?”

“Sometimes. We share a spark, so I dunno if it’s technically merging,” Sideswipe replied. “Are you gonna tell anyone about this? Because, well, some of the crew won’t be very understanding about...um… _us_.”

“I won’t,” Jazz confirmed. Twins were so rare, most of the crew probably hadn’t met any before being stationed with these two. That also meant most had no idea twins were more often than not involved with one another.  

He pulled out one of the two of them interfacing and turned it to face the room. He then sat back down on the couch, admiring it from a bit of a distance. “I think they’re all nice, but I like the motion you got in this one.”

Sideswipe sat back down next to his brother, and they all looked at the painting.

“Thought for sure you’d flip out,” Sunstreaker said after a moment.

“Why? Love is love.” Jazz picked up his serving of high-grade and took a few more sips of the potent fuel until he’d drained the glass. “Besides, we can’t help who our sparks call out for, right?”

Sideswipe picked up the bottle and refilled Jazz’s glass, smiling.

“So, now that you know about us… wanna share what really happened with you and Prowl?” Sunstreaker asked.

“If I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room,” Jazz replied.

The twins both nodded.

“Interesting fact about Praxian sparks, they run hot, so to speak. Hot enough to melt and burnout an inhibitor,” Jazz half-explained. He swallowed some more high-grade watching the twins work out what he’d just implied.

“Wait, you’re… Are you _sparked?_ ” Sideswipe asked with bright optics.

“With _Prowl’s_ sparkling?” Sunstreaker added, looking equally shocked.

“Yup. But the story gets messy after that.” Jazz settled in against the couch. “Turns out I got some kinda stupid coding installed at the core level that’s controlling how I feel ‘bout things. So even though I have loved Prowl for eons now, I no longer feel anythin’ for him.”

“Holy slag, that’s awful,” Sideswipe replied.

“Eons…” Sunstreaker frowned and fingered his glass in his hands. “So, that’s why you moved out. That’s really sad. Can’t they just fix you? Like take out the code?”

“They’re _working on it_ ,” Jazz replied. “In the meantime, everything is turning to slag.”

“You needed a distraction, then. That’s why you stopped by, huh?” Sideswipe asked.

“Pretty much,” Jazz replied, sadly smiling.

They twins exchanged looks, and then Sideswipe leaned close to his brother and whispered something into Sunstreaker’s audio to which he nodded.

“Sunny was about to paint with me posing for him. That’s what we were getting ready to do when you knocked,” Sideswipe said, tiny smile curving the corners of his lips. “If you wanted, you could stay and watch? I, uh, I’m supposed to pose with my array open, but I can skip that if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Jazz’s optics brightened, surprised by the invitation to something that the twins obviously held as very private. “I don’t wanna intrude on your thing, or make it weird to be watching.”

“It’s okay. Sides used to model at the Academy all the time. We both did, but I took classes, too.” Sunstreaker stood up, picking up his glass and the bottle of high-grade.

Sideswipe grinned as he stood up and waved at Jazz to follow him. “He’s set up in the berthroom. You’re totally welcome to sit in. It’s the ultimate distraction, right?”

Sunstreaker snorted a laugh at his brother. “Can you tell he likes showing off?” he said as he ducked into the berthroom.

Jazz had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. “Maybe for a little bit?”

“Stay as long as you want,” Sideswipe replied. “Sunny tends to get into a groove and can paint for hours.”

Getting to his feet, Jazz followed Sideswipe into the berthroom. Unlike in Prowl’s quarters where the berthroom was whole, this room had a large section of mountain rock as part of the ceiling and wall on one side.

“There’s a comfy chair over there you can sit in,” Sideswipe pointed out.

Jazz sat down, curious where they’d procured this nice bit of furniture. It almost looked like it belonged in the commander’s quarters… “Where did you get this chair?”

They both looked at Jazz with guilty expressions.

“Nevermind,” Jazz replied, holding up a placating hand. “Doesn’t matter.”

Sunstreaker began to open house paint cans and set up on a paint-stained desk, while Sideswipe crawled up onto the berth.

After getting his paints arranged how he wanted, Sunstreaker rolled out a large piece of plastic, cutting off a section and laying it flat to use as a pallette. He put a piece of metal that had been primed a solid dark orange color on the desk, propped against a piece of the mountain wall that stuck out. Opening a drawer in the desk, he then pulled out several very nice, well kept brushes. Mirage had a similar brush on display in his quarters that he’d saved from before the war. When Jazz asked about it once, Mirage told him it was customary for nobles to learn how to handwrite using a brush and metallic ink, and the one he had was from his sparklinghood. The fact Sunstreaker had several of them in varying sizes meant he’d been collecting and keeping them a _very_ long time.

“Lay back,” Sunstreaker directed.

Sideswipe did just that, one arm draped over his middle, the other out to the side.

“One leg tucked over,” Sunstreaker said, pointing.

Sliding one leg just under the other, Sideswipe looked like he was in a pretty comfortable position. He relaxed into it and then let his array cover open, spike flaccid and hanging off to one side. “This good?”

Sunstreaker nodded, then began to lay out the painting in rough, broad strokes.

Settling in, Jazz sipped his high-grade, and happily watched the scene unfold. This was what he wanted right now, no reminders of how fragged up his life had gotten in the last few months. Just the beauty of a loving relationship expressed in paint.

Finishing off his second serving of high-grade he set the empty glass on the floor, and pulled his legs up onto to the seat, curling up in the large plush chair. He found watching Sunstreaker mesmerizing, especially the way he painted using his entire arm movement to capture a shape.

The high-grade started to break down in Jazz’s fuel tank, and he found keeping his optics online getting harder and harder. This second phase exhaustion thing was still an issue it seemed. Normally when he had high-grade, he’d be buzzed and full of energy. Before he knew it, he’d drifted off, slipping into a deep recharge where he was sitting.

Jazz suddenly woke some time later, completely disoriented. He sat up in the twin’s berth, seeing he was alone. He heard voices from the front room, and a check of the time told him he’d napped for a couple of hours. Looking at the area where the desk was he saw not one, but two paintings. One partway finished of Sideswipe, the other was mostly done and much smaller of Jazz passed out in the chair. He couldn't help but stare at it. Maybe it was all in his head, but the colors and the look painted on his face spoke to a quiet sadness.   

“Oh, you’re up,” Sideswipe said as he stepped into the room. He looked over at the painting of Jazz and smiled. “You looked so cute all curled up, Sunny couldn’t resist. We moved you when he got most of it laid out. It’s not good to recharge sitting up, though. Bad for the joints, plus we weren’t sure how long you’d be out.”

Breaking his fixed gaze on the painting, Jazz sheepishly smiled. "Didn't mean to steal your berth."

“No worries,” Sideswipe replied.

Jazz slid off the berth and stood. He looked at the painting of him one more time, then softly sighed. “I should get back to my own room, I suppose.”

Sideswipe shrugged. “Me and Sunny were gonna watch a movie on a tv we scavenged from the humans’ dump. You’re welcome to stay and watch with us if you want.”

“Thanks, but this whole being a carrier thing has side effects, like being exhausted. I think I need some solid rest,” Jazz replied.

“Alright,” Sideswipe replied with a friendly smile.

Jazz walked out of the berthroom, and smiled at Sunstreaker currently sprawled out on one of the couches. “That painting of me is really nice.”

Sunstreaker beamed at the compliment. “Thanks. You were a good subject.”

Chuckling, Jazz shook his head. “Thanks for the good time, you guys. Try not to do break too many rules.”

“See you, Jazz,” Sideswipe replied.

He wandered out of their quarters and began the trek back to his old quarters. Those two were surprisingly kind, despite their outward demeanor around the base. It had been nice to get to know them a little better.

Rounding the corner, Jazz slowed. “‘Raj?”

Mirage was standing at his door, and turned around at hearing his name. “You’re not in there, I thought you were.”

Jazz walked over and frowned at the closed door. “I was visiting with the twins, trying to get drunk, but it didn’t quite work how I wanted.”

“Pass out, instead?” Mirage asked, with a knowing smile.

Tossing a frown at his friend, Jazz shook his head. “Because of my condition, right?”

“Yeah. High-grade gets broken down differently. It’s actually very good for, um,” Mirage glanced around the hallway. “Well, you know what.”

Jazz nodded, then pressed a hand to the closed door. “All my stuff is back in there. Still boxed up.”

Mirage sadly frowned. “I take it you don’t want to be in there.”

“Not really,” Jazz admitted.

“How about you stay with me for a bit?” Mirage offered.

Looking at Mirage, Jazz was so tempted to give in. But he knew that the offer wasn’t completely selfless and he worried he was upset enough he might do something he’d regret. “I dunno.”

“What will you do? Rechange out in the hall?” Mirage folded his arms over his chest and raised an optic ridge at Jazz.

“No, course not.” Jazz sighed. “Okay, but are you sure I’m not bein’ a burden on you? I don’t wanna be a pain.”

Mirage warmly smiled. “Not at all.”

“Thanks, ‘Raj,” Jazz replied.

“What else are good friends for?” Mirage hooked his arm around Jazz’s. “Come on. You look like you need to rest for days.”

Leaning into Mirage’s side, Jazz wondered if this was the right choice or not. On one hand Mirage had been sparked before and knew what he was going through, but on the other hand he knew his friend harbored a large crush on him and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to resist the flirting as easily as he had before. He was too tired to worry about all the possible consequences right now, though. All he wanted was a comfy berth someplace where he felt safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl struggles with the situation, while Jazz finds he's coping.

“From what I’ve gleaned from the intell, the Decepticons have divided into smaller groups,” Prowl explained, pulling a map up on the monitor in the conference room. “There are reported sightings and incidents, but nothing so dire the humans have asked for our assistance. I am still trying to determine their current strategy.”

Optimus rubbed his faceplate as he stared at the map. “Any fix on the the current space bridge location?”

“Yes, it’s the orange marked location,” Prowl replied. He tried not to look in Mirage’s direction during the meeting, but it was hard. Jazz had appointed his subordinate as his representative for any command staff meetings he might be required to attend. Prowl hadn’t seen Jazz in almost two weeks now.

“I would like to assemble a few covert teams to investigate,” Optimus said, looking to Mirage.

“I’ll let Jazz know,” Mirage replied with an assured nod.

“Optimus, have you heard back from Ultra Magnus yet? About the Programmer?” Ratchet asked.

“I had a message from him this morning. They have not yet found one, but they are continuing to search the various small cells of Autobot fighters. It will take time,” Optimus explained.

Ironhide frowned. “Now why are we askin’ fer a Programmer again?”

Prowl’s doorwings flattened against his back at the question.

“It’s a medical necessity,” Ratchet replied.

“We haven’t needed one b’fore. Why do we need to waste what small reserves they still got on Cybertron lookin’ fer one now?” Ironhide asked.

“It’s a _confidential_ situation,” Ratchet replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Oookay then. Yeesh.” Ironhide looked unconvinced and folded his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat.

Optimus cleared his vocalizer unnecessarily. “If there is nothing else, let’s conclude this meeting,” he said, looking around the table. No one had anything to add, and he nodded. “Dismissed.”

Unwilling to sit across from the mech that Jazz was currently living with, Prowl got to his feet first and bolted from the conference room. He ducked into his office and was about to shut the door to his office when Mirage appeared, hand out to stop the door from sliding shut.

“We need to talk,” Mirage said, optics sharply focused on Prowl.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Prowl countered.

Mirage wasn’t going to take no for an answer, though, stepping into Prowl’s office. Resigned to the unwanted intrusion, Prowl let the door shut once the spy entered and turned to face Mirage. “What is it?” he asked in a curt tone.

“I need you to know nothing is going on between me and Jazz,” Mirage said.

“He can do as he wishes,” Prowl replied, his fuel tank twisting into knots. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. He was barely able to hold it together as it was, having not returned to his quarters in weeks now, despite Optimus’ concerned statements. He’d been recharging on the floor of his office now and again, but he hadn’t had a full recharge cycle in what felt like forever.

Mirage frowned. “Prowl, he _loves_ you. I would never take advantage of him knowing how he feels about you.”

“Loved,” Prowl corrected.

“That’s the code controlling him, and you know that. I promise he still loves you,” Mirage replied.

“Please get to the point,” Prowl said, fighting to not let his doorwings quiver and expose just how vulnerable he felt right now.

Mirage sighed. “I want you to understand that the reason I asked him to stay with me has nothing to do with my personal attraction. It’s because I’ve been a carrier before. I can answer his questions that Ratchet can’t about what’s going on with his body. And in light of the fact he has no connection to the sparkling, it’s vitally important he still takes care of himself.”

Prowl frowned a little, unaware Mirage had been sparked. “Did you carry yours to term?”

“Yes,” Mirage replied, his voice softer and pained. “I had him with me for one vorn before the Towers fell. It was the happiest I’ve ever been my whole life. I want you and Jazz to know that happiness.”

“At this rate, I don’t see how this will end without my losing Jazz forever and being left to care for a sparkling that will remind me of him everyday,” Prowl replied, unable to keep his doorwings still. They quivered with all his pain he was trying to hold inside.

“Don’t lose hope, Prowl. Please.” Mirage sighed. “Everything will–”

“Be alright?” Prowl interrupted, anger flaring. “You have what you’ve wanted all along. So just promise me that when you do cross the line, that it’s not going to just be a fling for you. He deserves to be loved and cared for, looked after.”

Mirage balled his hands into fists and scowled. “I would never steal him from you. No matter how tempted I might be.”

Prowl frowned. “Was there anything else?”

“Yeah, you’re being an aft. But I’m going to assume it’s because you haven’t recharged in what looks like weeks. Figure out how to cope, Prowl. Because one way or another, Jazz will return to you. I will be sure of it.” Mirage slammed a balled fist over the controls to open the door and stalked out of his office.

Prowl had never felt threatened by Mirage’s flirting with Jazz before. Now everything felt like it was slipping right through his fingers and he had no way to stop it. How could Mirage make such a bold promise anyway? He tapped the controls, closing his office door and then sat down in his chair. He shoved the datapads in the middle of his desk aside and leaned on his elbows, holding his head in hands as more tears rose to the surface. He’d cried almost everyday since he’d learned of the coding robbing Jazz from him. Prowl felt so broken, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be whole again. Primus what kind of parent would he be like this? He cried silently, body shaking with each sob that wracked his frame.

…

“You wanna come hang out tonight?” Sideswipe asked Jazz as they walked toward the barracks after a patrol shift together.

“I appreciate the invite, but I feel like I’m gonna fall over. I just wanna crash and recharge for a while,” Jazz replied.

Sideswipe nodded. “Well, you’re welcome to drop in anytime.” He clasped Jazz’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze before veering off down the corridor toward his suite.

Jazz proceeded to Mirage’s room as he’d done for days now. He tapped the controls with the entrance code and the door slid open. Mirage was there, lying on his berth. He looked upset.

“What’s up ‘Raj?” Jazz asked as he crossed the room and flopped on his side on the berth next to Mirage, propping his head up on his hand.

“I don’t like being you at meetings,” Mirage replied.

“Oh, how’d it go this morning?” Jazz asked.

“Prowl is… falling apart.” Mirage sighed. “I wanted him to know the rumors about you and I were baseless, but he snapped at me. Refused to listen.”

Jazz felt a pain in his spark, and lightly fingered the middle of his chest. “He used to be like that when I first met him. On edge all the time, and he’d sometimes lose his temper, dress down the nearest bot.”

Mirage looked at Jazz with bright optics. “Wait, Prowl was less of an aft because of you?”

Chuckling, Jazz half-smiled. “I suppose.” His smile then faded. “He’s really not doin’ good, though?”

“He’s struggling. You both are. But he’s not coping well. We have more practice at dealing with complex emotional pain than he does, I suppose,” Mirage replied.

“That’s not exactly true.” Jazz shifted and laid on his back next to Mirage. “He’s never had his valve used for a playground behind enemy lines, but he carries the weight of every choice he makes tactically. Mechs die when he makes a false move, and sometimes even when he does everything right. He coped because I was there, and now he’s got no one to turn to.”

Mirage reached over, lacing his fingers with Jazz’s. “I don’t think he’s recharged in weeks, Jazz. He looks so worn out.”

“I can help indirectly I think,” Jazz replied.

“Oh?” Mirage asked.

“Yeah,” Jazz replied, squeezing Mirage’s hand. “I know what to do.” Tomorrow he’d go see Optimus.

…

Prowl woke with a start when his office door buzzed. He’d been curled up under his desk, having tried to get a little bit of rest, but the world apparently didn’t think he deserved a break. He stiffly scooted out, and just as he was dragging himself to his feet the door opened.

Still on his knees, one hand grasping the arm of his desk chair, he stared with bright optics at being caught by of all mechs, his leader, the only mech with a higher override than his own.

“I had hoped the information I was told had been pure speculation.” Optimus shook his head. “Prowl, this isn’t acceptable.”

Prowl sat back on his heels, too tired to bother finishing getting up. “How in the name of Primus did you know I was in here?”

“Jazz woke me up this morning, saying I needed to come here and check on you. He said that–” Optimus walked over to where Prowl was sitting on the floor and held out his hand to help him up. “–You were a stubborn mech, who wasn’t recharging or dealing with the situation very well. He said he used to have to drag you from your office on occasion when you were having a rough time in the past. He knows you very well, it seems.”

“He knows me like no one else,” Prowl quietly replied. He took Optimus’ hand, and got to his feet. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, and used his free hand to grasp the desk to steady himself.

“Underfueled as well?” Optimus asked, though, it wasn’t really a question. More of an observation. He sighed. “Prowl, will you let me help you?”

“You’ve done all you can to help by querying Cybertron for a Programmer,” Prowl replied, shame burning inside his chest at what a mess he’d become.

“What I mean to say is, would you let me care for you.” Optimus moved to slide his large arm around Prowl’s smaller frame, holding him to his side. “I would like you to come back to my quarters, fuel up and catch up on your rest.”

“Is that an order?” Prowl asked, half-joking.

“If I need to make it one, then yes,” Optimus replied, warmth in his voice.

Prowl shook his head. “You don’t need to.”

They left Prowl’s office, and walked through the empty corridors of the Ark. Being so early in the morning, most were still recharging, or else on duty. Jazz had timed his request to Optimus this way on purpose, and Prowl felt tears once again pool on his optics at that realization. Even with things how they were, Jazz obviously cared, even if he couldn’t love Prowl anymore.

Optimus showed Prowl his entry code. “You’ll stay with me for the time being.”

Nodding, Prowl allowed himself to be guided into the large command suite. The front room was almost twice the size of his own, but then Optimus was no small mech. Prowl sat down on one of the semi-circle couches, and then canted his head curiously, seeing there were only the two couches and no chairs. He had a chair that matched the couch in his quarters, why wouldn’t Optimus?

Optimus filled a cube up and brought it over to Prowl. “Drink up.”

Prowl took the cube and slowly sipped it, his fuel tank instantly responding to the much needed fuel.

Sitting down across from Prowl, Optimus picked up a datapad and began to read something as he waited for Prowl to finish.

“You’re missing two chairs,” Prowl commented casually.

“I moved one into the berthroom and the other… well, let’s just say a certain pair of nefarious twins thought they were being sneaky when they absconded with it,” Optimus replied, chuckling.

“They stole it?” Prowl’s doorwings lifted up. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve had them return it.”

“I don’t need it,” Optimus replied, clearly amused by the twins’ antics. “Besides, I like knowing it’s being used and appreciated rather than sitting around serving no real function here.”

Prowl hummed his disapproval and then continued to drink his fuel.

“So, how long since you last fully recharged?” Optimus asked.

“Since I found out about the coding,” Prowl sullenly replied.

“It’s been weeks then?” Optimus turned his datapad off and set it on the small table in front of the couches. “Well, I had my recharge cycle interrupted, and I’m not needed on the control deck for several hours.”

Prowl finished his fuel, and looked to his leader and friend. “What are you trying to imply?”

“I think we should catch up on our rest,” he said. Optimus pushed to stand, taking the empty glass from Prowl and crossing to the dispenser and sink in the corner of the room.

“We?” Prowl asked, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Yes.” Optimus walked back over and stood just beside Prowl, holding out his hand.

“I can recharge on your couch,” Prowl replied.

“You can, but I know you’ll rest easier in a berth,” Optimus said. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder, because I will.”

Prowl knew it was an empty threat, but relented, standing up. He followed Optimus into the berthroom, amazed by the massive berth in the middle of the room.

“Plenty of room for both of us.” Optimus gestured for Prowl to make himself comfortable first.

Was it strange to crawl into his leader’s berth? Yeah, a little. Prowl was so tired, though. Not just physically but emotionally, and he was honestly relieved to have Optimus offer him such caring support. Joining him, Optimus laid down on his back beside where Prowl had sort of balled up on his side.

“Thank you for coming to get me. For all of this,” Prowl said.

Optimus reached over and gently wrapped an arm around Prowl, pulling him a little closer to press up against his side. “You’ve always had Jazz to lean on, but I want you to know I’m here for you as well. You’re safe with me.”

Something about the genuine, caring tone in Optimus’ voice send a shiver through Prowl. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Rest,” Optimus said, commanding but gentle at the same time.

Prowl’s body obeyed, and his optics flickered off. He was well beyond exhausted, and for the first time in weeks he let go of all the worries and pain that had been plaguing him, slipping offline.

…

Jazz drove behind Hound to their assigned location to do some surreptitious snooping. He’d tried to get Mirage to partner with Hound, but his protege was insistent on going with Bluestreak on the other reconnaissance mission.

“Think this is it, according to the GPS anyway,” Hound said, pulling off the dirt road into more dirt.

Jazz followed, and then came to a stop and transformed. He looked out over the desert scene and frowned. “You sure this is it? I thought we were lookin’ for a canyon.”

“We are,” Hound replied, smiling after he also transformed. “This way.”

Jazz chuckled, and they made their way across what looked like miles of desert. About a hundred meters away, the floor dropped down into a huge canyon. “Whoa.”

“Pretty isn’t it?” Hound replied. “A hidden gem. The reports are from aerial surveillance, and it looks like the ‘Cons are using a cave system around there.” He pointed, though, Jazz had no idea what he was pointing to.

Jazz clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s climb down and find a cave of our own with a good view.”

They spent the next half-hour carefully climbing down and exploring the area. It was no small canyon. It went on for miles and miles.

“You know, this used to be a huge river! But over time it dried up,” Hound explained as they ducked into a nice, cool cave.

“This should be a good spot.” Jazz dropped down into a crouch and peered out the cave entrance. It gave a good view of the sky, so they’d see if any Decepticons were in fact flying in or not.

“Sounds good to me.” Hound pulled a cube from his subspace and sat down next to Jazz, sipping his ration.

Jazz’s fuel tank gurgled as the scent of it wafted over. Pulling his own ration out, he also took out a vile of the supplements and then added them to the cube, swirling it all around with a finger. He licked his finger clean, only then noticing Hound was staring at him.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Jazz asked.

“What’s with the supplements?” Hound responded.

“Oh,” Jazz glanced at his ration. “Long, fragged up story.”

Suddenly Hound’s usual smile disappeared and he looked back out the cave entrance.

Jazz sighed. “Okay, out with it. What did’I do wrong now?”

“Nothing,” Hound replied. “Just, you aren’t injured. So, well, why would you be adding supplements to your energon? Only one other reason I can think of.”

“Yeah, I’m sparked. Is that what you’re driving at?” Jazz asked, tired of hiding his condition.

Hound scowled at that. “So, I guess that means the rumors are true about you and Mirage then.”

Jazz suddenly realized that Hound thought Mirage was the co-creator and burst out laughing.

“Jazz! No need to rub it in!” Hound said, sounding offended and hurt.

“Trust me, Hound, no way it’s ‘Raj’s. I love that mech like we were sparked from the same creator, but not in the kinda way that would lead to this.” Jazz tapped his chest.

Hound’s frown faded and Jazz could see him trying to work out who else it might be. “Prowl? Is he the-you know-other creator?”

“Now you’re on the right page,” Jazz replied, grinning.

“But, you’re staying in Mirage’s quarters. I thought you and Prowl quit seeing each other or something. You moved out…” Hound sounded so confused.

Jazz took a long swig of his fuel. “Fate decided to bend me over it’s lap and stick a rod up my tailpipe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hound asked.

“I have some messed coding that ruined everything. Makes me not feel things I should," Jazz lamely explained.

Hound frowned. "That why you were in medbay so often?"

Jazz nodded. "Yeah. Part of it."

Neither said a word for a couple minutes as they watched the airspace above the canyon. Finally Jazz couldn't take the silence and decided to give into his own curiosity.

"So, this thing you got for 'Raj, have you told him you like him? Or just dancin' 'round it?" Jazz asked.

"I thought he was with you, so you know..." Hound sighed. "I doubt I'm really his type anyway."

Jazz half-smiled. "I dunno, you're a good-looking mech."

"Thanks? But if Mirage likes you, I don't think I have much of a chance," Hound replied.

"It's not my looks or even my winnin' personality that drew us close." Jazz fondly remembered seeing Mirage as recent recruit, sitting alone in the refectory. Jazz had walked right up and sat down intent on making friends with the loner. "Wanna know why?"

"Sure," Hound responded.

"Because I treated him like an equal, not some privileged noble. When he first joined up, everyone made a wide circle 'round him. No one wanted to be his friend. They were put off by the way he speaks, intimidated by his demeanor." Jazz glanced at Hound. "He's been through as much if not more as the rest of us."

Hound slowly nodded. "I'd never met him until I joined this crew. Seen him around, but I never felt like I could talk to him."

"Because he was a noble?" Jazz asked.

"No. More because Special Ops tend to stick to their own, plus..." Hound half smiled. "I tend to be intimidated by beautiful mechs."

"He's definitely a looker," Jazz agreed. "But he's more than just his looks. He's-"

"Brave, strong, amazing..." Hound interrupted.

Jazz knew Hound had a crush, but he was sure now that this was more than just a passing interest based on Mirage's beauty. "You sound like me when I first realized I wanted to be with Prowl."

"Really?" Hound sounded intrigued but unsure if he should probe the issue.

"Yeah. I'd flirted with him when our paths crossed once I'd been made an officer, but I tended to flirt with any mech that was cute or handsome." Jazz pulled his knees up to his chest, remembering the exact moment he'd decided Prowl was the one for him. "He always played my flirts off as nonsense, but he remained friendly with me. One day after we lost ground in Tiger Pax and a team sent out had been slaughtered, I was heading to the command deck when I passed by tactical and found Prowl yelling at one of his subordinates. He gave that mech such a bad reaming that the mech went running out of tactical cryin'. I was about to go in and tell Prowl to chill when I saw him bolt out another door. I wasn't willin' to let it go, so I chased after him. He ducked into a supply closet of all places, and I hacked the lock code, letting myself in. Found him sittin' in the very back in tears. Never imagined for a second that such a hardaft could be so sensitive, you know? I went over, crouched down in front of him and asked what was goin' on. He was surprised I'd come after him, but eventually he admitted how hard it was to shoulder the pressure of his job." Jazz still vividly remembered how pretty Prowl looked, vulnerable and unsure of himself. He'd wanted to kiss him right then and there, but he'd known in order to build a real relationship he'd need to take his time and court him. "Took one look into those light blue optics and it was over. I knew at that moment he was the one. I was done for."

Hound shook his head. "Hard to imagine Prowl like that. But, I don't see how my situation reminds you of that."

"Right now you got an idea of what you think Mirage is, and at some point you're gonna be faced with the vulnerable inside part of him not even I get to see. That's when you'll know for sure," Jazz replied. "And if anyone can get past Mirage's emotional walls, it'll be you."

"What makes you so sure?" Hound asked.

"Because I see how much you fluster him already. He knows deep down you're special." Jazz half-smiled. "Just be patient. The moment'll come."

Hound nodded. "Never knew you were such an expert."

"Oh, I'm not. I just know 'Raj. Better than he prolly realizes." Jazz glanced at Hound. "I think you'd be really good for him, too. So I guess I'm kinda biased."

"I hope I do get the chance," Hound replied with a small smile.

"I think you will-" Jazz cut himself off, seeing a group of seekers accompanied by Soundwave fly overhead. "Guess they _are_ here."

"Skywarp, Thundercracker, Starscream _and_ Soundwave? That's quite a group," Hound commented.

"No Megatron, though. Wonder what they're up to over there?" Jazz replied.

"Don't think it's a good idea to get much closer," Hound replied. "We're out numbered."

"Yeah, let's just stay until they leave again, then head back," Jazz replied.

"Sounds good to me," Hound replied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl finds unexpected support, Jazz begins the next stage of carrying, Mirage admits to his shame to Hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more Mirage/Hound as the fic progresses.

Prowl sat curled up on Optimus’ couch, staring at the scan Ratchet had sent him of Jazz’s spark from a few days ago on his datapad.

He’d recharged for almost twelve hours in Optimus’ berth, not even waking when his leader left. His body had needed the rest. He’d also needed to fuel up, and finished off two servings of energon after getting up. Part of him felt he should return to his office, focus on his work again now that he felt physically better. The other part just wanted to hide in this sanctuary a little longer before facing the outside world and the pain it contained, though. Just because his body felt better, didn’t mean his spark did.

Prowl touched the screen as the little secondary light zipped by in the recorded image, orbiting Jazz’s beautiful spark.

“I don’t know if I’ll be a good parent to you, but I will do my very best,” Prowl said to the image of their sparkling. “If I end up raising you all alone, I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes I’ll inevitably make.”

The door to Optimus’ quarters opened, and the looming presence of his leader entered.

“You rest well?” Optimus asked, walking over to his energon dispenser and filling a glass.

“I did. Thank you for letting me take advantage of your hospitality,” Prowl replied.

Optimus sat down next to Prowl, mask retracting as he glanced at the screen of Prowl’s datapad. Sipping his fuel, he smiled a little. “The little sparklet?”

Prowl nodded. “Ratchet sends me copies of the scans.”

“Incredible,” Optimus said, gazing at the looping recording. “A new life. The first in so long.”

“Coming into this world in the midst of the war, and to possibly be stuck with my inept attempt to be a good parent,” Prowl added with a frown. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to do this alone.”

“You will not do it alone,” Optimus assured him.

“We have no Programmer located. If things remain on this path, I will have lost the one mech I trusted with my spark, and he will want nothing to do with our sparkling.” Prowl sighed.

“Whether we find a Programmer in time or not, whether you and Jazz are able to reconcile, you will not be alone, Prowl. I will gladly take on a co-creator role, help you raise your sparkling if we are unable to change the current course of the situation,” Optimus replied.

Surprised, Prowl looked up at Optimus. “I would never ask that of you.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering,” Optimus replied. “And I would like to also extend the invitation for staying here with me for the time being. I think for your own mental well-being it’s important you have a place you feel safe,” Optimus added with a smile.

Prowl curled in a little on himself, feeling unworthy of having their Prime offer so much to him. “I would be foolish to turn down such a generous offer.”

“Good.” Optimus smiled brightly at that. He then gulped down the remainder of his fuel and set the empty glass on the table. “I have something for you.” He reached into his subspace and pulled out a datapad, holding it out to Prowl. “The early reports from both reconnaissance missions. I know you prefer to be busy.”

Prowl nodded as he took it. “You know me well.”

“We’ve fought side-by-side for eons. I would hope I know you,” Optimus said, teasing a little.

Opening the first preliminary report, Prowl tensed a little. “Jazz went on a mission?”

“Yes, I authorized it. His exhaustion seems to have passed, and I thought a trip off base would be good for him right now.” Optimus settled in against the couch.

Prowl quickly skimmed the report, seeing they didn’t engage, only confirmed reports of Decepticon sightings in the area. “I trust your judgement.”

Optimus shook his head, half smiling. “You don’t when it comes to Jazz, but I’m not offended.”

Prowl glanced at Optimus. “I can’t help but feel protective.”

“And that is part of why you’ll be a good parent,” Optimus replied assuredly.

Prowl sadly smiled. “I hope so.”

…

At first Mirage didn't quite realize what was happening. Still groggy and half-awake, having been caught in memory feedback from when he was sparked so long ago. Hands moved down his frame, a mouth kissed up his neck. He'd had a lover of his choosing for his third phase that satisfied _all_ his needs. He rolled to face the mech in his berth, and his lips were immediately caught in a kiss.

It was about then Mirage realized where he was, and whose lips were locked with his own. He momentarily froze, optics cycling on at full brightness, but Jazz seem undeterred. He parted his mouth, pulling Mirage’s open with his own, then slid his glossa inside. Mirage knew he should stop Jazz, but instead he kissed his long-time crush back, tangling their glossae together between their heated mouths. How easy it would be to steal Jazz from Prowl, but Mirage knew he wasn't that kind of mech. He had more moral fiber than to stoop so low and let rogue programming aid him.

Breaking the kiss, Mirage pressed a hand to Jazz’s chest. “Jazz, we can't.”

Jazz writhed, grinding his hips against Mirage’s. “But I want you. _Please_ …”

Mirage sadly smiled, having wished to hear those words under different circumstances. “I could be anyone to you right now. Your need is being driven by carrier protocols.”

Jazz huffed. “I need to do somethin’ ‘bout this burn in my array.”

Mirage sighed. Jazz had been sharing his berth for weeks now without incident and this sudden lustful behavior was nothing more than phase three of carrying beginning, which also meant it was time to share his secret knowledge of a Programmer here on Earth. Time was running short. Plus, if he angered Jazz enough with the delayed information, he'd hopefully snap him out of wantonly throwing himself at Mirage.

“Please, ‘Raj…” Jazz took hold of Mirage’s hand over his chest, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed the palm while keeping his unvisored gaze pinned on Mirage.

“No. You love Prowl. Not me.” Mirage removed his hand from Jazz’s grasp and sat up.

“ _Love Prowl?_ I don’t feel anything but numbness. It’s like he’s dead to me,” Jazz replied, obviously hurt by the rejection.

Sagging his posture a little, Mirage sighed. “I was hoping Optimus would find a Programmer in time, but if you’re this close to phase three, I don’t think I can wait to tell you this any longer.”

“Tell me what?” Jazz’s pretty aqua optics narrowed.

“I know of a Programmer right here on Earth,” Mirage replied.

Jazz sat up like a shot, optics bright. “What the frag? You know someone and didn’t say anything!”

Wincing at Jazz’s reaction, Mirage nodded. “I couldn’t tell you until I was sure there was no other way.”

“Who is it?” Jazz demanded. “I want this Primus-forsaken coding outta me! Tell me who it is!”

Jazz still very much loved Prowl. His reaction was proof of that. Coding or not, his spark belonged to Prowl.

“There is a very specific reason I didn’t tell you,” Mirage replied. “Not only is he _not_ an Autobot, but he’s going to be tricky to deal with, which means we can’t tell Prime or Prowl.”

“It’s a ‘Con…” Jazz frowned at that. “Okay, _who?_ ”

“I’ll only tell you if you promise not go off half-cocked to find him and get yourself killed. We need to work on a well-crafted mission plan _together_ ,” Mirage said in a stern tone.

Jazz nodded. “I promise.”

“If you break your promise, I’ll never forgive you,” Mirage replied.

Grasping at the berth padding, Jazz nodded again. “I won’t break it, _promise_.”

Mirage leveled a serious look at Jazz. “It’s Soundwave.”

Jazz deflated. “Frag.”

“I know. If he’s captured by our side, he’d die before helping you. We need leverage to get him to do what we want. I have been considering how best to handle him, and I think the we should botnap one of his cassettes,” Mirage said.

“Not a bad idea… But even if we do that, we gotta meet him on his turf.” Jazz bit at his lower lip as he considered the options.

Mirage smiled a little, having always loved how cute Jazz looked when the wheels were turning in his head. A part of him would always adore Jazz, even if he could never be his. “At least we know where he is right now from your recon mission.”

Jazz nodded. “Yeah. He’s in the desert canyon with all the seekers. We should look over all the info then work out a plan.”

“Agreed,” Mirage replied.

“Took you fraggin’ long enough to tell me, but thanks,” Jazz said. “Finally feel a little less hopeless than before.”

“And less like humping me, too?” Mirage teased.

Jazz punched Mirage in the arm as he half-smiled. “Fragger.”

“You wish,” Mirage taunted back as he rubbed the plating where Jazz had hit him.

“Thanks for, ah, not lettin’ me, you know, go further,” Jazz sheepishly replied.

“I would never stand in the way of love.” Mirage pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “It was sort of nice to be groped and kissed, though. It’s been a long while.”

Jazz leaned back on his hands and chuckled. “I know a bot that would happily grope and kiss you.”

Mirage raised an optic ridge. “Oh?”

“Hound is pretty smitten. Had the wrong idea ‘bout us, but I set things straight. He’s got it pretty bad for you,” Jazz replied.

Resting his chin on his knees, Mirage frowned a little. He liked Hound. He even thought the tracker was handsome. But aside from not feeling worthy of someone as pure-sparked as Hound, Mirage wasn’t sure he was ready to open his spark up again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive another loss.

“That wasn’t the reaction I was expectin’.” Jazz sat forward again, canting his head at Mirage. “You not like ‘im?”

“I like him. He’s got a good spark and he’s quite pleasing to the optics,” Mirage replied.

“But?” Jazz prompted.

“Well, aside from the fact I’m not exactly the untouched mech I once was, I don’t know if I could really open my spark to him,” Mirage replied.

“You and me, we’ve seen some slag. Been through the wringer at the hands of the ‘Cons, too. But that doesn’t make you or me unworthy of bein’ loved.” Jazz looked genuinely concerned. “You deserve love just as much as anyone else.”

Mirage snorted at that. “Maybe if I wasn’t a second born noble I’d think that. But as someone who was created for the sole purpose of being bonded for family alliances, I entered this world as a second-class mech.”

“‘Raj, you are who you want to be. There’s no more nobility or classes anymore. Just Autobots and Decepticons now. Love who you want,” Jazz said, insistent.

Glancing at his shelves, Mirage gazed at the items he’d salvaged from the wreckage of the Towers. Trinkets mostly. “It’s easier to love someone that can’t love me back. When I loved with all my spark before it almost broke me.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Jazz asked.

Mirage slid off the berth and crossed to the shelves, picking up a holoframe he usually left off. Returning to the berth, he sat down on the edge and Jazz scooted over to sit beside him. He held the holoframe in his hands for a moment, then turned it on. The image captures began to cycle. His sparkling the day after his separation, his sparkling being washed by his hands in a small basin, their small family standing together at a vista point near the Rust Sea, him recharging with his sparkling passed out on his chest… “I can’t lose someone I love again, Jazz. I don’t even think I can open my spark up again to anyone.”

Jazz was quiet as the images continued to play. When they reached the beginning and started the rotation again, he leaned against Mirage’s side. “What was his name?”

“Shadow.” Mirage touched the close up image of his sparkling before the image capture cycled to the next one.

“He was beautiful,” Jazz said.

“He was my world. I despised my bonded, and in truth we never actually spark bonded. It was in ceremony only. Shadow was what made each day there bearable for me.” Mirage sighed.

“Wish I could feel mine,” Jazz said.

“You will once we get Soundwave to remove the Surrogate programming,” Mirage replied confidently.

Jazz turned to better face Mirage. “‘Raj, I know nothin’ will ever fix a hole like that in your spark. I get why you’re scared to get close to anyone else, too. But that’s such a lonely life. You deserve to be worshipped and adored.” He frowned a little. “I want you to be happy. Like, genuinely happy.”

Mirage turned the frame off, and got up. He carefully set the frame on the shelf. “I don’t think that’s possible for me.” He turned and forced a smile. “Since we’re both up already, how about we grab some energon and head to your office. We have a secret mission to plan.”

Jazz looked disappointed but nodded as he picked up his visor and slid it on. “Okay.”

“Let’s go,” Mirage replied.

They walked out of his quarters together. Mirage wished he still had the capacity to let others in close. Despite the trust he placed in Jazz, there was a lot his friend didn’t know about him. He was a second born, trained to please a bonded chosen by his family for him. He was expected to have sparklings and be obedient in the berth. The fact he’d been hands on with Shadow was frowned upon, and his bonded was often jealous of the attention he lavished on his sparkling. In all, his experiences before the war were as damaging as what had happened to him after it started. Despite Jazz’s insistence otherwise, he felt unworthy of being loved.

…

The plan was simple, really. Steal a cassette, hold him in a cave and then initiate contact with Soundwave when he left the impromptu base to look for his missing cassettebot. As simple as it was, it had a lot of contingency issues, but time was short and Jazz was eager to get underway since they had no idea how long Soundwave would be at the confirmed location.

Mirage left Jazz’s office after they’d agreed they would head out the next morning. Jazz had paperwork to catch up on that Mirage wasn’t authorized to do and he wanted to go soak in the washracks in hopes of helping lift his darkened mood.

He walked into the washracks and stepped into an end stall. Turning the water on, he stood under it, letting the spray wet him down with it’s warmth. He always felt himself start to slide into a dark place when he talked about Shadow. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he offlined his optics and stood there for a very long time.

“Mirage?”

The voice startled him, and he jumped as he whirled around. Of all the mechs to find him here, it would be Hound. “You stalking me?”

Hound’s optics brightened at the accusation. “I, ah, no. I came to get a wash down after driving with Trailbreaker through some muddy terrain to help rescue some nearby humans that got their vehicles stuck.”

Mirage nodded. “I see.”

Hound looked unsure by the reaction, and stepped back from the stall entrance. “Sorry to bother you. You looked upset, I, ah, well. I’ll leave you be.” He then disappeared from the entrance of Mirage’s stall. His footsteps echoed as he walked away and entered another stall at the other end.

Sagging, Mirage instantly felt guilty. He then heard Trailbreaker enter and join Hound. Mirage turned off the water and grabbed a drying cloth, wrapping it around himself. He listened to the two friends chat as they rinsed off.

“How you get mud in some of these places, I’ll never know,” Hound said.

“Heh,” Trailbreaker laughed. “Not like you don’t have mud in your wheel wells, too!”

Mirage should leave. But he felt frozen in place. His spark ached from having looked at those image captures again after so long. And he felt guilty for snapping at Hound, since he hadn’t done anything wrong. He should go apologize, but not with Trailbreaker here.

Sinking down, Mirage sat on the wet floor of the stall, pulling the drying cloth around himself.

“You gonna be in the refectory later?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Yeah, I’ll drop by. I just gotta take care of something first,” Hound replied.

“See you in a little while then, and thanks for the helping hand,” Trailbreaker said cheerfully.

Hound chuckled. “Anytime, and thanks for getting my wheel wells.”

Mirage sighed, as he heard their footfall grow quieter. He dimmed his optics and leaned his helm against the stall wall, considering how else he might fight off the sadness overtaking his spark. But moments later footsteps echoed in the washracks again, and Mirage huddled into more of a ball, wrapping the cloth tightly around him. Maybe he should turn on his cloak and truly disappear…

“I can’t just walk outta here and leave things like this,” Hound said, reappearing in the entrance of Mirage’s stall. He looked surprised to see Mirage sitting on the floor, and frowned. “Something is really wrong, isn’t it? What can I do?”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Mirage replied.

Hound looked unconvinced and stepped into the stall, moving to sit down on the wet floor next to Mirage. “Talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

Mirage thought about his conversation with Jazz. How his friend wanted him to be happy. Such a simple thing really, but at the same time one of the rarest states Mirage had ever experienced.

Hound smiled at Mirage. “Or, I can just sit with you. So you won’t be alone and shut my yap.”

Mirage chuckled a little. “Why me? I mean, you’re handsome and friendly. Any number of mechs on this base would be more than happy to warm your berth, I’m sure. Why would you focus on the disaster area that is me?”

“Who’s to say why a spark chooses who it does? I’ve always thought you were nice to look at, but once I was on this crew with you I saw how strong and brave you are, too. Nothing strikes fear into you. And at the same time, you’re not out of control like Cliffjumper or even Jazz can be. You’re methodical, brave, smart. I don’t see a disaster at all,” Hound replied.

“That’s only because you don’t know me,” Mirage said with a sigh.

“I want to know you better, but you keep shoving me away,” Hound replied.

Mirage slowly shook his head. “If you really knew how tainted I am inside and out, I doubt you’d want anything to do with me.”

“Or maybe I’d find your flaws just as beautiful as the rest of you.” Hound sighed. “Look, if you really have no interest in me, that’s fine. Just tell it to me straight, and I’ll leave you be.”

“And if I admit I might have an interest?” Mirage asked.

“Then I’ll keep bugging you from time to time. Keep hoping one day you’ll let me in a little,” Hound replied. “Do you? Have an interest, I mean?”

Mirage turned to face Hound. “You honestly terrify me.”

Hound furrowed his brow. “I’m...sorry?”

“Don’t be.” Mirage dimmed his optics. “First of many flaws I will admit to you is that I’ve been raped on multiple occasions when I’ve been caught behind enemy lines.”

Hound didn’t flinch or look away. “Kinda suspected that since you’re Special Ops. But I _am_ sorry that’s happened to you. I don’t see that as a flaw, though.”

“I’ve had more spikes in me than I can even count, and that doesn’t bother you?” Mirage asked.

“Nope.” Hound canted his head. “Why do you see that as a flaw? It’s not something you had any control over.”

“My fault or not, my value was diminished,” Mirage replied.

Hound shook his head. “Value? You make it sound like you’re a drone or something.”

“Another flaw, I suppose,” Mirage said with a sad smile. “I’m a second born, worth quite a bit less than a first born. And no matter how hard I do try to let go of the nobility and society I was raised in, I still see myself in those terms.” Primus, had he really just admitted that to Hound?

Hound turned where he sat to face Mirage. “And as sad as that makes me to hear you say that, I also find it sort of beautiful.”

Mirage laughed. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes. Look, I don’t know anything about the world you come from. But it’s shaped who you are as much as anything else. It’s _part_ of who you are,” Hound replied. “And you are _beautiful_ , Mirage.”

“Hm.” Mirage looked down. “That’s what matters to you then? My appearance?”

Hound cupped Mirage’s face and gently tilted his head back up, forcing their gazes to meet. “When I say ‘beautiful’, I’m not talking about just your outside, but also who you are inside. I want a chance to get to know you better. And that doesn’t mean I expect you to spill all your secrets. I just want to learn how to cheer you up when you need it. Or know when you just need to feel sad or upset and be there for you. Find out what makes you laugh. Dote on you so you’ll know how special you are. That’s what I want with you, Mirage. If that’s not what you want say so and I’ll leave you be.”

No one had ever spoken to Mirage in such a romantic manner before. He gazed at Hound, unsure what to say. After a moment’s thought, he knew how to respond, though. Leaning in, he ghosted his lips over Hound’s, then pressed their mouths flush in a kiss. Hound happily responded, gently kissing back.

Mirage pulled away and smiled at the dazed look on Hound’s face.

“So, um, that means you still want me hovering around?” Hound asked.

Mirage nodded. “Yes, but… While I'm open to the idea of more I don't know if I'm truly ready for it yet.”

Hound nodded. “Take all the time you need. I'll wait it out.”

Mirage wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, but for the first time in a very long time he wanted to be able to move past his pain and let someone in again.

“In the meantime, would you like to join me for some energon?” Hound asked.

“With Trailbreaker, too?” Mirage asked.

“Well, yeah. If that’s okay. Sorta promised I’d meet him there,” Hound replied.

Mirage smiled. “Sounds lovely.”

Hound got to his feet, and offered his hand to help Mirage up. He took it, and pushed to stand. Using his drying cloth, he wiped down the leftover water droplets clinging to him, then turned to pat Hound’s aft and legs dry. Had it been Jazz, some sort of semi-lewd comment would have been made, but Hound simply smiled, looking pleased by the caring gesture.

Mirage hung the cloth up and sighed, feeling much better now.

“Ready?” Hound asked.

Mirage looked at him and nodded. “Ready.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz does what needs to do, but will it be enough?

They’d left early in the morning, driving across the desert toward the canyon Jazz had seen Soundwave almost a week earlier on his recon mission. He was anxious about this plan, but if he was this close to his third phase already, he didn’t have time to waste. He’d get rid of this Primus forsaken coding or die trying.

Mirage had been unusually quiet as they prepped for the mission, which had worried him some. He hoped his kissing and groping hadn’t made things awkward between them. He’d honestly not really been thinking clearly, and the lack of control he’d felt over his desire was pretty disturbing. If he was going to throw himself at someone like that, it should be Prowl.

Sometime in the late afternoon they reached the edge of the canyon. Jazz came to a stop and transformed. His fuel tank angrily gurgled for more fuel. Pulling out a ration and vial of supplements, he quickly prepped some energon.

“This is a large canyon,” Mirage said, looking out over the sprawling landscape before them.

“Yeah.” Jazz gulped his fuel, draining the ration quickly. “The base they’ve got set up is about a mile that way. My guess is if we get in close enough, we should come across either Laserbeak or Ravage on spy duty.”

Mirage nodded. “I have the stasis net with me, and I’m ready to catch a cassette.”

“I’ll walk the bottom out in the open to get some attention, and you follow invisible, like we discussed.” Jazz then clapped his hands together and grinned. “Let’s do it!”

Mirage half-smiled and nodded.

They made their way down through the canyon, reaching the bottom where the riverbed ran. Jazz used the extra settings on his visor to scan the area for any heat signatures larger than the small animals that lived in the area. Mirage shimmered out of sight, and Jazz set off following the meandering river.

They walked for almost twenty minutes. The sun was going to set soon, and Jazz started to worry, not wanting to have to do this in the dark‍‍‍. Finally, he spotted a bird-shaped hot spot up behind a rock-outcrop. “Hey, little birdie! Come down and play?” he taunted as he picked his way through the rocks and terrain toward the heat signature.

Laserbeak squawked and took to the air before attempting to dive-bomb at Jazz’s head. He ducked, and the statis net went flying into the air, snaring the cassette of prey. Dropping like a stone, Laserbeak spasmed once, then his optics went black.

“Out like a light,” Mirage said, shimmering back into view.

“Perfect throw!” Jazz said, picking up the cord and pulling the netting shut around their leverage.

“So now what?” Mirage asked.

“We locate a cave, and secure this guy,” Jazz replied, holding up Laserbeak in the net. “Then we wait for ‘im to online and then get him to contact his boss.”

“Do you think more than just Soundwave will turn up?” Mirage asked with a worried look.

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” Jazz had his own plan to set in motion, but first he needed to leave Mirage someplace safer. “Come on,” he gestured as he headed up an incline of rocks. “I think there’s a cave just up here. Me and Hound used it on the mission.”

They climbed about halfway up the canyon wall and Jazz located the same cave with a rock outcropping that obscured the entrance. He dropped Laserbeak on the ground and put his hands on his hips. “This’ll do.”

Mirage nodded as he stepped deeper into the cave. “Looks adequate.”

Jazz sighed, regretting what he was about to do. No time to back out now, though. He moved quickly, pinning Mirage to a wall of the cave.

“What the frag, Jazz?” Mirage said, struggling.

“I love you too much to let you get hurt for me,” Jazz replied.

“What? You promised me!” Mirage got one hand free, but it was too late.

Jazz pinched the exposed line along the backside of Mirage’s neck, and his body went limp as he instantly offlined. Carefully lowering his best friend to the cave floor, Jazz placed a chaste kiss to Mirage’s cheek. “Sorry. It’s better this way.” From his subspace, he removed a medical device used on battlefields to put mechs into temporary stasis for transport. He set the timer on it for five hours, and stuck it to Mirage’s chest, turning it on. He then reached around and unpinched the line, so Mirage wouldn’t sustain any lasting injury.

With his friend safe and secured, Jazz got to his feet and picked up the netting with his prize still offlined inside. “Time to face the music.”

…

Prowl swept onto the command deck for his evening duty.

Optimus was there and nodded to his Second. “Are you feeling up to this?”

“I need the distraction right now,” Prowl replied. “I’m no longer suffering lack of recharge, I can handle a quiet evening on the command deck.”

Placing a hand on Prowl’s shoulder Optimus squeezed. “Comm if you need anything at all.”

“I will, sir,” Prowl replied. He’d made sure to add the ‘sir’ when he saw Red Alert staring at how familiar Optimus was being with Prowl.

Optimus let go, and exited, leaving Prowl in charge. He moved to stand in the middle and look over the monitors. “Have things been quiet?”

“Yes, sir,” Hound replied. “The Decepticons still haven’t made any real moves yet.”

“Humans haven’t required our assistance for any major issues, either,” Red Alert added.

Prowl nodded.

While he was physically in better shape with rest and fuel, he still felt pretty shaky emotionally. He needed more of a distraction. “Can you put some of the feeds up from the reported Decepticon activity areas?”

“Sure thing,” Hound replied, routing all the feeds to the main monitor.

Hound glanced over his shoulder at Prowl. Their SIC had been holed up in his office for weeks. He looked to be in fair condition, though. Hound did wonder what had happened between him and Jazz, as did most of the Ark crew.

Suddenly Hound’s internal comm pinged. The frequency signature surprised him, and he quickly faced forward again as he silently answered. ::Mirage?::

::Hound. Something’s happened… I made a huge mistake,:: Mirage replied.

::What’s going on?:: Hound asked.

::Jazz. I… I tried to help him and now he’s gone off on his own. I can’t go in after him... I suppose I could with my invisibility cloak, but even with that, if there are any scans sweeping around their base for energy signatures they’ll find me.:: Mirage sounded desperate.

::Back up a sec, are you and Jazz on a mission? I didn’t see anything on the registered mission list for today,:: Hound replied, pulling up the mission list on the screen in front of him.

::Unauthorized mission, yes. He took off without me, though,:: Mirage replied.

::Wait, he’s sparked and he went by himself into a ‘con base?:: Hound asked, his own worry spiking.

::You know he’s sparked?:: Mirage asked.

::Yeah, from our recon mission. He was slipping supplements into his ration. Look, I need to tell command about this,:: Hound responded.

::Fraggit. I know. I just… I failed protecting him. He tricked me,:: Mirage responded.

::Jazz is reckless sometimes. I’m gonna put you on the speaker for command deck. I’m on duty right now,:: Hound replied.

There was a long pause. ::Alright. Go ahead,:: Mirage eventually replied.

::Hold on a sec,:: Hound turned to look at Prowl. “Sir?”

“Yes?” Prowl replied.

“I have an urgent communication,” Hound said, connecting his and Mirage’s linked signal to the command deck. “Go ahead, Mirage.”

“Sir, I was on an unauthorized mission with Jazz. We came to the area where the seekers and Soundwave were seen on a recon mission one week ago. But Jazz, he incapacitated me and took off. I’m on my own and I can’t go in for him alone,” Mirage explained.

“ _You what?_ ” Prowl practically shouted.

“ _Prowl?_ _You’re_ on deck?” Mirage asked.

Hound had never seen Prowl’s calm facade crack before. His doorwings trembled and he balled his hands into tight fists.

“What was this mission objective?” Prowl asked angrily.

“To make contact with a Programmer,” Mirage replied.

Prowl’s optics flashed, and his doorwings shot upward. “There's a Decepticon Programmer? _Who?_ ”

“Soundwave,” Mirage replied.

“How long since you last had contact with Jazz?” Prowl asked with a growl.

“The timer on the medical stasis emitter he put on me was five hours, and I just came to,” Mirage replied.

“Relay your exact location immediately,” Prowl replied in a sharp tone. “Red, ping Optimus to return to the deck. Hound, I need able bodied frontliners at the entrance to the Ark for extraction immediately. As for you, Mirage, do not move. You will face reprimand upon your return, which means you’ll be staying in the brig for the foreseeable future. _Am I clear?_ ”

Hound winced. He’d never seen Prowl lose his temper before. Not like this, anyway.

“Yes, sir,” Mirage replied, defeat in his voice. He send his coordinates and then the line then cut out.

Hound tried to re-establish a connection with Mirage, but his pings were denied access. He glanced at Prowl. “I wish to ask for permission to go on extraction mission. I know the canyon, and where the base likely is since I was Jazz’s recon partner.”

Prowl frowned at Hound, looking unsure.

“Permission granted,” Optimus said as he stepped back on the deck. “Prowl, take Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as well as Hound with you. I'll have Skyfire meet you all at the front to take you.”

“You’re letting me go get him?” Prowl asked, looking vaguely confused.

“As if I could stop you,” Optimus replied. “And try not to let your worry and anger get the best of you. Mirage is not to blame.”

Prowl huffed. “Yes, sir.” He then looked at Hound. “Let’s go.”

Hound didn’t need telling twice, and practically leapt out of his chair, following Prowl off of the command deck.

…

Four and a half hours earlier:

Jazz hummed to himself as he made his way down the canyon toward where he suspected the Decepticon bunker was. Laserbeak eventually came to and began to struggle and squawk in the net.

“No point trying to flap around. The net is made of unbreakable material. You’ll just tire yourself out. Plus, if you don’t stop, I’ll electrify it again to knock you out,” Jazz said as he held up the netting with Laserbeak inside.

Laserbeak narrowed his optics, but stopped moving.

“That’s better,” Jazz said with a half-smile. “Okay, so here’s the deal. Tell your boss, Sounders, I need to talk to him. It’s urgent. I know he’s a trained Programmer and I–”

Laserfire suddenly rained down, and Jazz moved quickly racing to duck behind a large nearby boulder. How had someone gotten the jump on him? He tripped over some loose rocks, landing hard on the ground. Spinning around, he came face to face with Skywarp. Well, that explained how he hadn’t noticed anyone nearby, that aft had warped in. He held up his hands in surrender, only then realizing he’d dropped Laserbeak when he fell.

“Hey, there! I don’t wanna fight!” Jazz said.

Skywarp smirked. “You think I care?”

Jazz rolled to the side to avoid more laserfire as Skywarp started shooting again. He scrambled to his feet and began to run. This wasn’t going how he’d hoped. He used the boulders and rocky landscape to shield him as Skywarp gave chase, continuing to shoot at him. Then the firing unexpectedly stopped. Unsure why, Jazz crouched down and pressed against a boulder to hide.

Heavy footsteps came closer, and Jazz started to scoot back.

“Come out,” Soundwave droned.

Soundwave? Jazz’s spark pulsed hard and fast. He touched his chestplate with his fingertips. “Well, either we’re gonna die, or if we’re really, _really_ lucky, we’ll make it out of this fixed. I’m kind of an all or nothin’ sorta mech, which I hope one day I’ll get to tell you in person,” he whispered to the sparkling he still couldn’t feel. He then stood up, and walked out to face the much larger Communications officer.

Soundwave’s visored gaze gave away nothing as he stared at Jazz. “Message received.”

“You’ll help me?” Jazz asked.

“Screamer says to bring him back to the base. What are you doing, you big blue idiot?” Skywarp asked as he flew over to them.

“My apologies,” Soundwave said. He then moved much faster than Jazz expected, sending a fist flying at his head. Too fast for him to duck, the punch cracked against his helm, sending the world spinning.

Jazz fell to the ground, and his vision blurred. He could see fuzzy outlines of both Skywarp and and Soundwave standing over him, and Skywarp held up one of his arm cannons.

“Nighty-night!” Skywarp said before firing.

The world went black.

…

Jazz came to, moaning in pain from an all over body ache. He cycled his optics several times before he was able to clear some of the blur. He glanced up, seeing his hands were cuffed together and chained to a hook in the ceiling of the room he was in. His toes just barely touched the floor, and his arms already hurt from bearing most of his body’s weight.

Glancing around the room, he tried to assess his situation. No windows. No furniture. No nothing. It was just a bare room with four walls and a closed door.

He sighed. This was not going well at all.

Checking his internal clock, he noticed he’d been out an hour or so. Mirage wouldn’t be up for another couple of hours. He’d need to survive until help came, which meant do whatever was necessary to stay alive.

The door opened, and Starscream sauntered in. Soundwave also appeared but didn’t enter,  looming in the doorway.

“Online I see,” Starscream said with a smirk. “ _So_ I have been trying to figure out why an Autobot would be so incredibly stupid and show up practically on my doorstep all alone. Either you’re mentally defective, or you want something.”

“A little of both, actually,” Jazz replied with wry smile.

Starscream stared at him and shook his head. “What do you want?”

“I just wanna talk to Sounders. That’s it.” Jazz shifted his gaze to Soundwave.

“About?” Starscream asked.

“It’s personal,” Jazz replied, glancing back at Starscream.

“Keh,” Starscream scoffed. “Tell me or I kill you right now.”

“Then kill me,” Jazz replied, not missing a beat. It was an empty threat and they both knew it.

“I don’t have time for your stupid mind games, Autobrat.” Starscream spun on his heels and faced Soundwave. “Soundwave, extract something interesting from his processor.”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave droned.

Starscream moved out of the way as Soundwave entered the room. The large blue mech came to a stop in front of Jazz, and flipped over his wrist, pulling out a hardline cord. “Open medical port,” Soundwave commanded.

Jazz grimaced, but obeyed. He let the port on his neck open, and Soundwave jacked in. A shiver ran through his frame as he felt Soundwave begin to crawl through his systems.

‘Lower firewalls,’ Soundwave said, his voice echoing inside Jazz’s processor.

‘Only if you’ll help me,’ Jazz replied.

Soundwave’s prodding dug harder at his firewalls, breaking one, then two. It hurt, and Jazz writhed, his whole frame trembling. ‘Pain is avoidable. Simply lower firewalls.’

‘Will you help me?’ Jazz asked again.

‘Help you with what?’ Soundwave replied, breaking another firewall down.

Jazz gasped. ‘You’re a Programmer. You used to do stuff for the nobles of Iacon. Worked in the Towers, right?’

Soundwave’s assault suddenly stopped. Jazz then felt him shift from breaking into his processor for intell, to scanning his body. ‘You are sparked.’ Despite the deadpan, Jazz still felt an association of awe with the words.

‘And I got some stupid programming called-’

‘Surrogate programming identified.’ Soundwave then began to dive deep into Jazz’s core coding, causing Jazz to wince. It felt like Ratchet’s invasive computer digging around, but several times more intense.

‘I had no idea I had this stupid coding. Can you remove it for me? Fix me? I’ll give any intell you want,’ Jazz offered, desperate.

‘Surrogate programming is unethical. Removal already in process,’ Soundwave replied.

Jazz could feel Soundwave’s disgust with the Surrogate programming over the hardline. ‘What do you want in return?’

‘No trade necessary. Health of sparkling highest priority,’ Soundwave replied.

Jazz glanced at Starscream looking bored as he watched. ‘What ‘bout him. He wants something.’

‘Satelite codes will sate his desire for information,’ Soundwave replied.

‘You got it,’ Jazz said, pulling the information he had on the human satellite network forward to offer it to Soundwave. ‘So, you’re makin’ this awfully easy for me. Was expecting more of a fight.’

Soundwave’s visored gaze locked with Jazz’s. ‘Surrogate programming is part of the sickness that our society suffered before the war. Abuse of power and wealth, treating sparklings as a commodity, these are reasons I joined the Decepticons.’

Jazz could feel Soundwave’s conviction, and frowned as he subtlety nodded. ‘I get that. This coding has robbed me of everything. But, are you gonna tell Screamer I’m sparked?’

‘Negative. Information will remain confidential. You will owe me a favor in return at a future time,’ Soundwave replied. Jazz then felt Soundwave’s presence tighten around something inside his core programming. ‘After I remove corrupting programming, you will black out momentarily for a reboot. I cannot stop what will follow. When the fliers are finished, I will take you off base and return you.’

Bracing himself not only for the pain of having this coding removed, but what he knew Soundwave was implying about his fate at Starscream’s goons’ hands, Jazz nodded and lowered his gaze. ‘Do it. I’m ready.’

Pain suddenly ripped through his chest, and the world tilted side to side as he cried out. At first he didn’t even realize he’d offlined. He relit his optics, left dizzy from the changes to his core programming and looked up just in time to see Soundwave exiting the room with Starscream, the door sliding shut behind them.

He hung there for a moment, trying to regain his bearings when he suddenly felt something completely new. His optics flared brightly behind his visor. “I can feel you…” He could finally sense the presence of the sparkling against his spark. “Hey you,” he whispered as pure joy blossomed inside him. The sparkling seemed unsure about Jazz, and he could feel it was lonely. “I’m with you now.” He let his love for the sparkling wash over it. “Me and Prowl are gonna love you _so_ much. Smother you in hugs and kisses, you got no idea…” he trailed off, only then also realizing the block on his emotions for Prowl was gone, too. He was so happy, he felt tears of relief pool on his optics.

The sparkling vibrated curiously at the rush of joyous emotions. He’d lost precious emotional bonding time that he was going to have to make up for. Months of growing all alone inside him must’ve been hard. “I got you little one, and I ain’t letting go for nothing.”

The door opened again, and Dirge walked in with Thrust on his heels.

“Lookie, lookie what we got here,” Dirge said as he walked around Jazz.

Thrust put his hands on his hips and leered at Jazz. “Not a bad reward for getting Starscream those parts.”

“I wanna go first,” Dirge replied, grabbing Jazz’s hips from behind.

Jazz tensed a little, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been used by the enemy. He honestly could care less what they did to his valve, so long as his sparkling was kept safe, and they didn’t try to kill him.

Dirge’s interface cover snapped open, and Jazz felt him rub his spike against his aft. “He’s kinda small.”

“What, you don’t like tight fits?” Thrust asked.

“I guess,” Dirge replied. “Open up, or I rip it off.”

“No need for that.” Jazz let the cover to his array slide open.

Dirge stabbed his spike right in, and Jazz winced at the pain of a dry entry. He withdrew partway and stabbed in again, holding Jazz still by the hips. “Not bad,” Dirge said. “A little rough feeling, though.”

“He needs lubing, probably,” Thrust replied. He reached in his subspace, and pulled out a half-used metal tube of lubricant. “Here.” Circling to Jazz’s side, Thrust squeezed some onto Dirge’s spike as he pulled out. The next hard thrust hurt significantly less, and the cooling sensation of the lubricant offered relief as it helped slick his valve.

Jazz then relaxed his body as best he could, trying to just let them do what they wanted. His joy at being able to feel the sparkling and his love for Prowl overrode his anger at being used like a interface drone. He just needed to survive. One way or another, he’d be off this base soon, and back in Prowl’s arms. That was all that mattered now…

“Wanna see if he can take both of us?” Thrust asked.

Dirge chuckled. “Yeah, why not.”

Thrust appeared at Jazz’s front. “Hey there. Let’s see how you handle two spikes.” He grabbed Jazz’s legs, lifting them up. “Give me a hand, Dirge.”

“You got it,” Dirge replied, guiding Thrust’s spike into Jazz’s valve alongside his own.

Jazz gasped and winced at the pain of being stretched beyond his normal tolerances.

“Aww, I was hoping you’d cry,” Thrust said, looking disappointed. He leaned in closer to Jazz’s face. “I wanna hear you whimper and cry and beg us to stop.”

Jazz snarled at the flier. “Not in a million years you piece of scrap.”

Thrust frowned. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Dirge snorted and laughed. The two then began to pound hard into Jazz at the same time. He bit back the urge to cry out in pain, feeling the valve lining tear from the abuse.

“How’s that?” Thrust asked, panting slightly with his efforts. “Huh? Hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jazz refused to look up, enduring the burning sensation between his legs.

“Gonna… Oh, frag, can’t…” Dirge lurched his hips, spike spilling into Jazz.

Thrust picked up his pace, and groaned as he also overloaded, adding several more pumps of fluid to Dirge’s deposit. They both pulled out, and fluid trickled down Jazz’s inner thighs as Thrust let go of his legs. The two moved to stand side-by-side in front of Jazz, admiring his debauched appearance.

Rubbing his spike in his hand, Dirge worked to get it hard again. “What should we do next?”

Thrust frowned as he considered their options. “We could unhook him and make him suck our spikes?”

“I don’t trust this one not to bite,” Dirge replied. “Besides, I think Warp was gonna come in here after we’re done for a turn. We’ll get in trouble if he sees we took him down.”

“True,” Thrust replied. “We could decorate him for Warp.”

Dirge snickered, and stepped closer, pumping his spike hard in his hand. “I’ll mark him up good.” He stuck his spike into Jazz’s seeping valve, and began to roll his hips hard and fast. At least with just one mech, it didn’t hurt. Just as Dirge’s grunts indicated he was about to overload, he pulled out and spurted all over Jazz’s chest and abdomen. Jazz’s tank churned at the sickening smell, and he dimmed his optics.

The two both began to cackle.

“Warp won’t want him like that!” Thrust said, laughing.

“Definitely not,” Dirge replied.

The door to the room slid open again, revealing Starscream. He took a long look at Jazz’s fluid covered frame, then sharpened his focus on Thrust and Dirge. “You two idiots done making a mess?”

“Yes, sir!” they replied in unision.

“Put your disgusting arrays back in order and get out! I said he was a reward, not a plaything for you two,” Starscream shouted as he pointed to the door.

The two quickly shut their arrays and swiftly left the room. Starscream shut the door and walked over to Jazz, scowling at the messy marks of fluid on his plating. Jazz tensed a little unsure what Starscream was doing here again. He got his intell. What more did he want?

“Soundwave got some interesting information out of you. I’m a little surprised you gave it up so easily.” Starscream began to circle Jazz, trailing a finger over his hip plate, then cupping Jazz’s aft as he moved behind him. “Why did you really show up here all alone? Surely you knew you were no match for me and my fliers.”

“Call me curious, I guess. Wanted to know why half the ‘Cons are here with you, and the other half are off with Ol’ Megs. Figured if I came in for a close look, I’d see what’s really goin’ on here,” Jazz replied, impressed by his own bold lie.

Starscream sank his fingers into Jazz’s valve, stretching the opening. Fluid poured down his thighs, and he winced. “Those two poor excuses for fliers thoroughly defiled you, didn’t they?” Jazz then heard an interface cover open and felt Starscream’s spike rub against the entrance to his valve. “Bet they just shoved right in, didn’t they? Didn’t even bother to properly _torture_ you.” Starscream continued to gently rub against the entrance, making sure the head of his spike stimulated the sensitive platelets rimming the front entrance area of his valve.

To Jazz’s horror, his valve slicked on it’s own and his plating warmed. _Stupid fraggin phase three… not now..._

“See, making you like this against your will is far more humiliating, don’t you think?” Starscream slid inside Jazz, and he was unable to help the whimpered moan he made in response. Snickering, Starscream held himself buried inside Jazz. “Now, tell me why you _really_ came here.” He gently gyrated his hips, and Jazz shivered at how good it felt. “And I’ll reward you with an overload. How does that sound?”

“I already told you why,” Jazz replied, gasping as Starscream pulled partway out.

“You’re a liar,” Starscream replied, sharply thrusting back into Jazz.

Jazz cried out, pleasure echoing in his array as his valve pulsed around the large spike imbedded in him. Shame made his face heat, but he had no control over his body’s response.

Starscream stilled again. “You-you’re honestly enjoying this?” Stepping back, Starscream’s spike slipped free and left Jazz’s whole frame trembling with want for release. He circled to the front again, staring at Jazz in disbelief. “Are you glitched? I barely did anything! Look at you! You’re on the verge of overloading already.”

Jazz panted, fighting to get his libido under control.

“Something isn’t right…” Starscream said, looking almost horrified by Jazz’s reaction.

Alarms suddenly came to life across the base, blaring loudly. Starscream flicked his doorwings in annoyance. “I’ll finish with you later!” He snapped his array shut and stalked back out of the room.

Jazz sagged, his body still aching with need. He had to get the frag out of here and fast.

Looking up at his bound hands, he tried to figure out if there was a way to unhook himself from the ceiling. He could feel some distress from the sparkling, scared by his own desperate emotions. “It’s alright. I just gotta get us outta here.” He began to swing his weight, causing the chain to hop against the hook. If he could really get going, he might be able to get to the chain part to slide right off. He swung back and forth, gaining momentum until finally he went flying off the hook and landed with a thud on the floor in a heap. “Yeah, no way I’m lettin’ myself have an overload that’s supposed to help you grow from that major league aft.”   
He got to his feet, and snapped his array cover shut, grimacing at sensation the fluid all over and inside him.

The base shook, explosions rocking the building. What was going on? Were the attackers friend or foe out there? He sighed, then moved toward the door. It had a sensor and opened as soon as he got close. He peered out into the hallway, seeing the warning lights flashing, hearing yelling and shots echoing. Which way was out?

He didn’t get a chance to decide. An explosion to his right caused the ceiling to collapse in and he took off running to get away from it. He stopped at the end of the hall where there were two double doors, which he threw his full weight into, but they wouldn’t budge open. He glanced down the adjoining hallway when he heard more yelling.

“You won’t take this base while my spark pulses!” Starscream screeched from somewhere nearby, but the smoke and dust from the explosion obscured Jazz’s view.

Another explosion rocked the base, and Jazz stared with bright optics behind his visor at a wall of debris and fire that came barreling right at him. He had nowhere to escape to, and quickly crouched down, covering his head with both arms. “I’m sorry if we don’t make it little one…I tried...”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz is back in Prowl's arms, and Mirage begins to consider opening his spark up again.

Hound continued to occasionally ping Mirage during their short, cramped flight to the canyon edge. Each ping was declined, though. Giving up, Hound glanced at the others. Prowl looked like he was practically vibrating he was so tense, and the twins were exchanging worried looks.

Then, out of the blue, Mirage pinged Hound. He quickly answered. :: Mirage? are you alright? We’re on our way right now. ::

:: Something is going on. I’ve moved in a little closer to see, :: Mirage replied.

:: Be careful, :: Hound replied. :: In your invisibility cloak, right? So no one sees you? ::

:: Of course,:: Mirage replied somewhat haughtily, which was encouraging to hear. :: I have a better view… This is not good. Megatron is with Devastator and they’re trying to knock down the front entrance to the bunker the seekers were flying in and out of.::

:: That’s _really_ not good! :: Hound frowned as Skyfire began to descend. ::We’re landing any second. Send me your new coordinates.::

:: Just wait for me at the other coordinates. I’ll meet you there. There is literally nothing I can do. I just hope… I hope Jazz is okay inside, :: Mirage replied.

::He’s tough. If anyone can survive crazy odds, it’s him,:: Hound said, trying to sound confident.

::True,:: Mirage replied. ::I’m going back to the cave now.::

::See you in a few minutes. Sit tight,:: Hound replied, then cut the line.

Skyfire set down about a half mile from the canyon edge, so they would remain unseen. Prowl hopped off first, transformed and sped off. Hound scowled at their SIC’s less than professional behavior, though, he couldn’t blame him. He looked at the twins. “No way I can catch up to him.”

“Don’t worry!” Sideswipe replied before transforming.

“We can,” Sunstreaker added, also transforming.

The two revved their engines and were off like shots. Hound then transformed and did his best to catch up, but they were soon all dots on the horizon.

As Prowl reached the rim of the canyon, he skidded to a halt when saw Soundwave fly up from below, holding an extremely battered Jazz in his grasp. Prowl quickly transformed and Soundwave landed in front of him.

“He is damaged, but alive. As is your sparkling,” Soundwave droned.

The twins arrived not even a moment later and transformed, pulling their weapons out and pointing them at Soundwave. Prowl quickly gestured for them lower their guns. “Why have you brought him to me?”

“You are the co-creator,” Soundwave replied, stepping closer to transfer Jazz’s limp body to Prowl’s grasp. “He requires medical attention as soon as possible.”

Prowl was in shock a Decepticon would try to help them. He gazed at Jazz’s cracked visor and scorched plating. “Did you… _fix_ him?” he asked, looking back up Soundwave.

“Surrogate programming has been eliminated,” Soundwave replied.

Relief washed through Prowl in response. “Thank you for doing that…” Holding Jazz close, Prowl started to feel calmer, despite knowing his love was in dire need of medical attention. It was if his processor was finding balance again now that he had his better half back. Canting his head slightly, he assessed Soundwave’s condition, noting he was also burnt and damaged. “You look to be in need of a medic,” he commented.

“Are you glitched, Prowl? He is _not_ coming back to the Ark with us!” Sideswipe said, lifting his weapon again. “We have Jazz, let’s just get the frag outta here!”

“My condition is satisfactory,” Soundwave replied, visored gaze shifting to the twins just behind Prowl.

“Stand down, Sideswipe,” Prowl ordered.

Soundwave looked back at Prowl. “Leave now. The Decepticons will sort out issues. Autobot interference is unnecessary.”

“Infighting?” Prowl asked.

“Affirmative.” Soundwave stepped back. “Return to your base.” With that, Soundwave took to the air and flew back down into the canyon.

Hound drove up just after Soundwave left. He transformed and jogged over. “What hap-” he cut himself off when Prowl turned with Jazz in his grasp. “Holy frag.”

“We need to get him back to the Ark as soon as possible,” Prowl stated.

“Mirage is still down in the canyon,” Hound replied. “Permission to retrieve and escort him back to base?”

“Granted,” Prowl replied. “And, tell Mirage I’m sorry.” Prowl started back toward Skyfire, walking swiftly.

The twins hesitated for a moment.

“You want us to come with you, Hound?” Sideswipe offered.

“No. You go make sure Prowl and Jazz get back safe and sound. I’ll look after Mirage,” Hound replied.

The twins nodded, and then jogged after Prowl.

Hound sighed, then started his climb down to the coordinates Mirage gave him.

…

Aboard Skyfire, Prowl held Jazz across his lap, cradling his head in the crook of his arm. The twins settled in, both looking worried as they stared at Jazz. Prowl inspected his condition, noting several external injuries: charred plating, shrapnel. He could only imagine how much internal damage there was.

Skyfire took off. “I’ll get you back to base as soon as I can, so hang on!” He banked to the left, and they all braced themselves until he straightened out again.

“What’s that gunk on him?” Sideswipe asked, pointing to discolored splatters all over Jazz’s middle and chest.

“It’s all over his thighs, too. I’ll give you one guess, Sides,” Sunstreaker replied with a pointed look.

“Oh… Sorry, Prowl,” Sideswipe replied as he ducked his helm, clearly embarrassed.

“Not the first time, nor will it likely be the last time,” Prowl quietly replied, petting Jazz’s helm and the side of his face. He remembered comforting Jazz other times after he’d returned from being captured, but he hadn’t always available. Sometimes too busy with his own duties, Jazz would seek comfort with Mirage instead of himself. But not anymore. Jazz deserved his full attention and love, and he was going to put all he had into rebuilding their relationship.

“Sunny, you should paint that,” Sideswipe said, smiling.

Prowl looked up at their matching smiles. “Paint?”

“Yeah. I’ve been painting on scrap metal off duty. I did a nice one of Jazz a few weeks ago, actually,” Sunstreaker replied.

“I didn’t know you were creative in that way,” Prowl replied.

Suntreaker shyly smiled.

“He’s the best. Sunny, you should show Prowl the painting of Jazz, you know, when things are all okay,” Sideswipe said, glancing at Jazz.

“You two didn’t seem surprised when Soundwave mentioned I was a creator,” Prowl said, eyeing the twins.

“We knew,” Sunstreaker admitted. “Jazz came over to hang out and try to get drunk. He passed out instead, that’s when I painted him. But before that, he mentioned what was going on.”

“And you didn’t share that information around the base?” Prowl asked. “That seems unlike you two.”

“He asked us not to, plus he ended up with some, um, information me and Sunny rather not get out,” Sideswipe replied.

Prowl half-smiled and looked down at Jazz. “Of course he did.”

“You should smile more, Prowl. It looks nice on you,” Sunstreaker commented.

“I will take your suggestion under advisement,” Prowl replied, surprised and humbled at the same time by the twins’ kindness.

“Why were the ‘Cons fighting themselves I wonder?” Sideswipe mused out loud.

“It’s not clear, but hopefully the ramifications won’t impact this planet for the inhabitants,” Prowl replied. It was a concerning development. If the Decepticons were falling apart, that would make it much harder to fight them. Facing a united front was one thing, but battling multiple smaller, but powerful factions could become an issue for them.

“Landing now, guys. Hang on,” Skyfire said as they angled downward.

Gazing at Jazz, Prowl hoped they’d be able to mend the damage between them. Coding or not, he knew that hiding their relationship had weakened things between them. He’d been selfish, not wanting to give all of himself for fear of losing Jazz. Despite his attempts to keep a safe emotional distance, now that he’d nearly lost him he knew it had been a waste of precious time to keep him at arm’s length. A mistake he would not repeat again.

Skyfire landed, and his cargo door opened. Before Prowl could get up, Ratchet was shoving at the twins to make room for him and a hover transport berth.

“Get your giant afts outta my way, would you?” Ratchet said.

Sideswipe crawled over to sit on his brother’s lap, blocked in by the transport berth as Ratchet squeezed in. Prowl might’ve laughed at the somewhat comical sight of the two frontliners if not for the dire situation.

Ratchet knelt down, fingers running over Jazz’s frame quickly. “Looks worse than it probably is.”

“He’s been raped, too,” Prowl quietly replied.

“I’ll check his array for damage,” Ratchet assured him. “Help me get him on the transport.”

Prowl lifted Jazz’s head and shoulders and Ratchet lifted his lower half. They carefully laid him on the transport berth, and Ratchet didn’t waste a second, pushing it back out of Skyfire’s cargo. Prowl was about to jump off, but paused to look back at the twins. “Thank you for everything.”

They both looked surprised. “We didn’t do much,” Sideswipe replied.

“You did more than you realize,” Prowl said, then hopped off, jogging after Ratchet and Jazz.

…

Hound reached the cave, and found it empty. He was about to ping Mirage, when a form shimmered into view. “You _are_ here. Hey, you alright?”

Mirage hugged his middle and shrugged.

“Jazz is gonna be okay, I think. He was returned by Soundwave of all mechs. Prowl already headed back with him to base,” Hound said, hoping the good news would help cheer up Mirage some.

Optics brightening, a look of relief washed over Mirage’s face. “Soundwave… That means Jazz is going to be alright then. Him and his–” Mirage cut himself off before finishing his thought.

“His? You mean his sparkling?” Hound asked.

Mirage slowly nodded his head. “How did you know about it?”

“Found out on our recon mission. Mixing supplements into his ration gave it away,” Hound replied.

Mirage half-smiled. “He’s an excellent spy, but he sometimes lacks subtlety.”

Hound chuckled. “Yeah, well. Anyway, since our flight already left, we should start the drive back.” The canyon rocked with an explosion, and Hound glanced out the cave entrance. “We probably don’t want to stick around for much more of the Decepticons fighting themselves.”

“Agreed,” Mirage replied.

They made their way out of the canyon, and transformed once they were in the desert. The drive back was pretty quiet, but Hound didn’t mind. He simply enjoyed being near Mirage. There was just something about the pretty spy that resonated with him.

Several hours later, they were on a paved highway only a few minutes away from the Ark.

:: Thank you by the way. For coming for me, :: Mirage suddenly said, breaking the long stretch of silence.

:: No need to thank me. I just wanted to be sure you were okay, :: Hound replied.

:: You didn’t need to, though. I’m quite embarrassed I let Jazz get the drop on me like that. I should’ve seen it coming. But he’d promised me we’d work together. I trusted him like a fool, :: Mirage replied.

Hound could hear how hurt Mirage was by what Jazz had done. :: He was probably just protecting you. ::

:: I’m sure he was, but I’m still mad at him, :: Mirage replied with a huff.

Hound chuckled to himself. :: Remind me not to get on your bad side.::

:: I highly doubt you ever would, :: Mirage replied.

Hound internally smiled to himself in response.

Arriving at the base, they transformed. Hound stretched his arms over his head to help his plating re-settle in place after being in alt mode for so long. In his peripheral, he noticed Mirage watching him. If he didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought he was checking him out. He smiled and gestured toward the Ark entrance. “After you.”

Mirage glanced at the entrance then back at Hound. “I would like to check in at medbay to be sure Jazz is alright, and then... perhaps, meet you back at my quarters? If you were so inclined? I feel we should talk.”

“Talk?” Hound asked, unsure if that was a euphemism or not.

“I said some cryptic things to you in the washracks the other day. I feel I owe you more of an explanation,” Mirage replied.

So it probably wasn’t a euphemism, Hound decided. “Don’t owe me a thing, but I’m always happy to listen.”

Mirage smiled. “Meet me at my quarters in fifteen minutes or so?”

“See you there,” Hound cheerfully replied.

…

The long drive had given Mirage time to think. His love for Jazz had anchored him for a very long time. Jazz had been the first mech to treat him like just another teammate, not a fallen noble. He’d trained Mirage, looked after him in the field, offered comfort off the field. It was hard to let go of the security that came with his best friend’s constant companionship. But after everything that had happened recently he was finally ready to let go. Not that he wanted their friendship to end, but he knew he needed to stop relying on Jazz to fulfill his emotional needs.

During the long drive, he’d also thought a lot about Hound. The way their casual friendship had quickly morphed into something else in recent months. Despite Hound’s clear desire for more, he hadn’t pushed at all, and been respectful toward Mirage in a way he hadn’t experienced in millenia. It had been Mirage to initiate a first kiss, which was completely unseemly behavior for a second born noble.

Mirage sighed, he certainly had a lot of emotional issues he was only now beginning to face up to.

Reaching medbay, he saw Prowl sitting in the waiting area. Without hesitation, he walked up to him. “How is he?” Mirage asked.

“Ratchet is removing shrapnel right now, but Jazz is stable and he will be okay,” Prowl replied.

“Shrapnel?” Mirage frowned. “What happened?”

Prowl sadly frowned. “It looked like he was in an explosion.”

Mirage grimaced, feeling guilty he had let himself be incapacitated. “And the sparkling? The... coding?”

“Sparkling was well protected inside his spark. It’s perfectly fine,” Prowl replied. “Soundwave said he removed the coding when he handed Jazz over to me, but Wheeljack will verify that once Ratchet is finished.”

Mirage nodded. Jazz had been irresponsibly reckless, but achieved his mission goal anyway. Only he could pull off an impossible stunt like that. “Am I still under orders to report to the brig for disciplinary action?”

Prowl’s doorwings lowered. “No.” He dimmed his optics. “I apologize for what I said. I was upset and letting my emotions cloud my thoughts. The truth is, you have been there for Jazz when I wasn’t. If anything, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Surprised, Mirage’s optics brightened. “I’ve been flirting with your long-time lover and you want to thank me?”

With a small smile, Prowl nodded. “I trusted Jazz to be faithful to me, but I also used your affection to fill in the gaps in our relationship. That wasn’t fair to either of you, and it’s something I will not do moving forward. But, for all you’ve done for him and indirectly for me, I do thank you, Mirage.”

“Promise me you’ll be there for him and your sparkling, and we’re even,” Mirage replied, surprised but also pleased by Prowl’s change of spark.

“I will,” Prowl replied.

“I have someplace I need to be, but I am glad he’ll make a full recovery.” Mirage graciously nodded his goodbye, and left medbay.

Rounding the corner in the barracks, Mirage smiled a little at the sight of Hound waiting at the door to his quarters holding two energon cubes. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“You and I both know I’d wait forever if I had to,” Hound replied with a warm smile. “But I actually just got here a couple minutes ago. I grabbed us some energon. Figured after such a long drive, we should refuel.”

“Thoughtful as always,” Mirage replied, unlocking the door and gesturing to Hound to enter first.

Hound stepped inside and looked all around, having not been in Mirage’s quarters before. The handful of times they’d spent time together off duty had always been in Hound’s room.

“You’ve got a lot of things from before the war,” Hound said, gazing at the shelves filled with trinkets of Mirage’s previous life.

“I dug through the remains of the Towers and saved what was salvageable,” Mirage replied.

Hound handed him one of the cubes. “Your place makes mine look pretty messy.”

“I like your quarters. You have all those board games and Earth rocks. It’s cozy in a very ‘Hound’ sort of way,” Mirage replied before sipping his gifted fuel.

Chuckling at that, Hound shook his head. “What is this?” he asked, pointing to a paintbrush in a display stand with a metallic ink block under it.

“Would you like me to show you?” Mirage asked.

“Sure,” Hound replied with a curious look.

Mirage set his energon down on the berthside table, then walked over to the shelf. He picked up the brush, and ink block and then sat down on his berth with the block carefully set in the middle of his lap. Hound wandered closer.

“Sit,” Mirage said. “And I’ll show you.”

Hound grinned and happily sat down beside Mirage.

Mirage took the lid off the ink block, dipped the tip of the brush in his energon, then swirled the energon over the dry block to wet it. Once some of the metallic ink was on the brush tip, he turned partway to face Hound. “May I see the back of your hand?”

“Uh, okay, sure.” Hound held his hand out, and Mirage very carefully lettered Hound’s name in Ancient Cybertronian script across the back of it. “Whoa. You can handwrite in Cybertronian?” He twisted his hand to try and read it. “Wait, is this Cybertronian?”

“Ancient dialect of Cybertronian,” Mirage replied proudly. “I wrote out your name.”

Hound grinned. “Wow, that’s amazing, Mirage.”

Placing the lid back over top of the ink block, he got up and set the brush and block back on their display stand. “Every noble sparkling is taught to write by hand.” He then picked up the holoframe with the images of his sparkling on it and returned to the berth, gracefully sitting down next to Hound.

“I never learned anything like this,” Hound replied.

“I could teach you if you really wanted to learn,” Mirage offered.

“Might take you up on that,” Hound replied. “But, ah, I don’t think you invited me over for handwriting lessons.”

Mirage held the frame to his chest and shifted his gaze to the floor. “No, I didn’t.”

Hound set his empty cube down on the floor then folded his hands in his lap. “So talk to me. What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m nervous to tell you this, because I worry that not only talking about it be upsetting for me, but it may very well color how you see me. You may change your mind about me,” Mirage said, frowning.

“I doubt that,” Hound replied.

Sighing, Mirage lowered the frame, then held out to Hound. “This is something I have only ever shown to Jazz and the only reason I showed him is because he’s sparked. I want you to see who I was, though.”

Hound took the frame and turned it on. He silently watched the rotation of image captures that showed Mirage and his sparkling. Hound remained silent as he gazed at the images.

Mirage’s spark sank with each passing moment of silence. He was tainted and knew Hound might not want to be with someone who’d already been sparked once before. “Are you… disappointed?”

Looking up at Mirage, Hound seemed confused. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because I’ve been sparked before,” Mirage replied. “And you aren’t saying anything…”

Hound shook his head and looked back at the holoframe. “I’m not a noble, so I don’t care if you were sparked before. It doesn’t make you less ‘valuable’ in my optics. What I care about is how happy you look in these images with your sparkling. It matters to me because it begins to explain the sadness that you carry around with you now.” He locked gazes with Mirage. “And I’d love to hear about him, if you wanted to tell me.”

Mirage stared at Hound, overwhelmed by his response. “His name was Shadow. And I miss him so much…” Tears pooled on his optics.

Scooting closer to Mirage, Hound slid an arm around him, holding him to his side. “He was beautiful.”

Mirage wiped at his face, but it was useless. More tears replaced the ones he wiped away as he looked down at the frame still in Hound’s hand. “He was the most amazing mech I’ve ever met.”

Hound kissed Mirage’s helm. “Of course he was, he was _yours_.”

Mirage started to sob, unable to hold it in. It hurt so much, even after all this time, but he also felt safe enough to let his emotions overrun him. Hound didn’t pity him, like others had. Even Jazz had that look of pity on his face after he’d shown him the images. Instead, Hound offered empathy and affection. Exactly what Mirage needed in order to face the pain he’d been burying for so long.

He cried for what felt like an eternity, but Hound stayed right where he was, nuzzling and kissing his helm occasionally. Eventually he was completely emotionally wrung out, and his sobs finally started to ease.

“I’m sorry for behaving like this,” Mirage said, wiping at his tear-soaked face.

“Don’t ever apologize for needing someone to lean on. I’m actually honored you chose me this time,” Hound replied.

Mirage looked at Hound with new optics. Why had he resisted letting Hound close all this time? This mech... he was amazing. “Would you... stay with me tonight?”

“On one condition,” Hound replied.

“What?” Mirage asked.

“We just recharge this time ‘round,” Hound said with a small smile.

He wasn’t good enough for someone so honorable, but that didn’t stop his spark from yearning for Hound. “Of course,” Mirage replied.

Hound scooted back and settled into the berth, holding up the frame for Mirage to put back. Instead of putting it back in it’s place among the clutter of his former noble life on the shelves, he placed the holoframe on the berthside table before curling up against Hound.

“Thank you,” Mirage said as he tapped the controls on the wall above the head of the berth to turn off the lighting.

“What in the world are you thanking me for?” Hound asked, gently petting little circles along the middle of Mirage’s back plating.

“Being you, I suppose.” Mirage gazed adoringly up at him in the darkness.

“In that case, thank you, too,” Hound replied.

“You can’t copy me, you know,” Mirage replied, teasing.

Hound pressed a kiss to Mirage’s forehelm. “Just want you to know, I’m not perfect by any stretch, but I think we might be perfect for each other.”

“Such a romantic,” Mirage replied. He tipped his head up, and their lips met in a lip-only kiss. “And I mean that in the most positive way.”

Hound dimmed his optics, smiling. “It’s been a long, draining day. Let’s get some rest.”

Mirage nodded, relaxing in Hound’s hold. This was still a terrifying prospect, truly letting someone close to his spark again, but he knew he could trust Hound.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to stabilize for Jazz, while Mirage wades through new murky territory with Hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost caught up to the chapters I have already written, so maybe a bit of a wait for further chapters.

The first sensation Jazz registered was a full body ache. The second was a little life prodding at him. He lit his optics with a soft groan, followed by a chuckle as he pressed a hand to his chest. “Hello to you, too,” he murmured. After a moment he realized why the sparklet had busily poked him awake when his fuel tank gurgled from being nearly empty. Sitting up, he glanced around the room hoping to spot a rogue cube of energon. What he saw instead was a comfy-looking chair with Prowl slumped in it, recharging.

Slipping off the berth, he crossed over to Prowl, and leaned down kissing his pretty red chevron. Primus, he’d missed how Prowl made him feel, making his spark fluttery and light.

Prowl dimly lit his optics, groggily cycling them. When he was able to focus on Jazz, the look of awe on his face was nothing short of adorable. “Jazz!” He reached up for him, but stopped short, only letting his fingers graze Jazz’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t be up. The damages were extensive. Ratchet said–”

Jazz silenced Prowl with a kiss.

Their mouths met like puzzle pieces perfectly shaped to snap in place together. Jazz’s joy at being able to kiss his love again in turn made the sparklet vibrate with what he could only describe as happiness.

Breaking the kiss, Jazz gazed deep into Prowl’s optics. “Hello, beautiful.”

Prowl grasped Jazz, pulling him down into his lap, hugging him tightly. Jazz curled up in Prowl’s arms and rested his head on the nearby shoulder.

“Missed me?” Jazz asked, chuckling.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to let go of you again,” Prowl replied, pressing his face against the side of Jazz’s neck.

“Now _this_ is how it’s supposed to be,” Jazz mused.

“Are you in pain?” Prowl asked after a moment, pulling back enough to look Jazz in the optics.

“Sore, but mostly my fuel tank is empty. Little one woke me up to lemmie know,” Jazz replied.

Prowl’s grasp loosened. “I’ll go get you some.”

“Nah, it can wait a minute,” Jazz replied, snuggling in closer. “I wanna enjoy this a little more.”

Gently touching Jazz’s chest, Prowl stared. “So, you can feel it? The sparklet?”

“Yep.” Jazz smiled. “ _Our_ sparklet.”

Prowl touched their forehelms together. “I love you so much. I've missed you.”

“Love and missed being able to feel all this so much. You got no idea,” Jazz replied.

Prowl pressed in for another kiss. Jazz happily accepted and returned it. After a long, lovely moment he broke the kiss and contentedly sighed. Prowl nuzzled his cheek in response.

“So, how did I get back here anyway? Last thing I remember was a fireball headed right at me,” Jazz asked.

“I don’t know how exactly you were extracted from the base, but Soundwave brought you out of the canyon and handed you over to me. We’d just arrived to rescue you,” Prowl explained, sitting back some and gently brushing the backs of his fingers down Jazz’s face.

“I owe him two favors now,” Jazz replied. “Oh, that reminds me, I gave up the human satellite network codes in exchange for him takin’ out the Surrogate coding.”

Prowl nodded. “I’ll be sure the humans are made aware, and to change them.” He then pursed his lips slightly. “That was all he wanted?”

“Yeah. Honestly, I thought he’d be a lot harder to convince to help me. He just wanted somethin’ to give Starscream I think, so he took those codes. It wasn’t what I was expectin’. I could feel his disdain for noble society when he was crawling ‘round inside me, though. Almost like he wanted to help me,” Jazz replied, shrugging.

“Interesting,” Prowl replied.

“And, ah, is ‘Raj okay?” Jazz asked.

“Yes. He wasn’t injured,” Prowl replied.

“He’s probably pretty fragged off at me for what I did,” Jazz replied with a small frown.

Prowl dimmed his optics a little. “I’m sure he understands why you–”

“You’re up!” First Aid interrupted from the doorway, visor bright.

“I am. And you know, I could really go for a cube with some suppliments. My tank’s gettin’ a little grumbly,” Jazz replied.

“Right! Okay, one second.” First Aid dashed back out of the room.

“Ratch left the kid in charge, huh?” Jazz asked.

“I told Ratchet if he didn’t go recharge I would take him to the brig myself and force him, too,” Prowl said with a small smile.

Jazz chuckled and then playfully kissed the tip of his nose. “Such a hardaft.”

First Aid returned with two cubes, and Jazz took one, staying right where he was in Prowl’s lap while he gulped down the tasty fuel. He immediately felt the sparklet calm once his tank stopped sending him low fuel messages. Handing the empty cube back, he grinned. “Hit the spot. Thanks.”

“You know, you really should rest more,” First Aid said, looking worried. “I can see your welds are still not healed over sufficiently. If you put too much strain on them, they might reopen.”

“Perhaps you should return to the berth,” Prowl added.

“Only if you’ll be in it with me,” Jazz replied. “ _Please._ ”

Prowl looked to First Aid. “Would that be acceptable?”

“Ah...” First Aid shuffled nervously. “You just need to be very careful with him. And that means no, you know, _physical activity_.”

“No gettin’ my gears stripped. Got it,” Jazz replied.

“I’ll leave this extra cube here.” First Aid set the cube down on the table beside the berth. “And close the door.” He quickly swept back out of the room and the door snapped shut behind him.

Jazz dimmed his optics. “Frag, I wanted to overload hard then pass out in your arms. He sucked the fun right out of that.”

Prowl smiled. “The concern is for all the damage they repaired from the shrapnel. Perhaps I could overload you without straining your body in the process.”

“Oh?” Jazz asked, array instantly warming at Prowl’s suggestion. “‘Cause thing is, I’m sorta on the verge of my next phase. Everythin’s been buzzing for release for a couple days now.”

“Has it now?” Prowl scooped Jazz up in his arms and stood, walking him over to the berth and carefully laying him down in the middle. “Stay still.”

Jazz’s plating tingled at the gentle command. Prowl then crawled up onto the berth, and first kissed his lips sweetly, then carefully kissed his way down Jazz’s body, causing his plating to heat. Settling between Jazz’s legs, Prowl mouthed over the closed cover. Jazz thought he might implode from the joy at regaining this part of life again. The cover didn’t stay closed long, and Prowl wasted no time, licking up the onlined spike before him.

Even after all their time together, the sight of Prowl with his mouth full of spike remained one of Jazz’s favorite erotic images. His spike surged into the heat of Prowl’s mouth, jerking slightly as his glossa snaked around it. Pulling back, Prowl gave the head a hard suck, and Jazz whined. His whole body practically vibrated with pent up desire.

Fingers brushed along the platelets leading to his valve, and suddenly Jazz stiffened. He wasn’t surprised by the reaction after being violated and used as a service drone for the Decepticons. What _did_ surprise him was which part of the ordeal most vividly upset him: Starscream nearly bringing him to overload.

Prowl froze, then he pulled off Jazz’s spike. “No valve?” he quietly asked, having seen Jazz through previous damaging experiences.

“Yeah, um, not ready for that quite yet,” Jazz replied, feeling badly.

Undeterred, Prowl resumed licking and suckling Jazz’s spike until it was rock hard again. He shivered, and tried not to think about how good Starscream’s spike had felt. Instead, he focused on watching Prowl expertly draw his spike up to the edge, then pause. He did it several times, leaving Jazz’s head swimming with desire for Prowl. Soon all he wanted was to overload into that amazing mouth and whimpered needily.

“Please,” Jazz whined, bucking his hips slightly.

Smiling around his spike, Prowl enveloped the entire length with his hot, wet mouth. He could feel the tip tapping Prowl’s intake as he rhythmically made swallowing motions until Jazz couldn’t hold out a moment longer, overloading hard. Fluid felt like it pumped forever from his spike with release, every last drop making it’s way down Prowl’s intake as he worked to swallow for real. It felt incredible. Jazz writhed slightly and moaned as pleasure fogged his processor, suppressing his recent unpleasant memories. Coming down from the overload, his whole frame went slack against the berth. “Holy slag.”

Prowl pulled off, carefully licking up anything he missed. “You’re always beautiful, but I have to admit, I missed seeing the unique beauty of you in the throes of an overload.” He crawled up and lay on his side next to Jazz, propping his head up with his arm.

Jazz contentedly sighed and smiled up at Prowl. “Nothin’ compares to seeing you between my legs.”

Chuckling a little, Prowl leaned in and they kissed. Jazz could taste himself on Prowl’s lips, and he hummed.

“You should rest,” Prowl softly murmured against Jazz’s mouth.

“Normally I’d argue, but I’m actually pretty beat,” Jazz replied. “You’re gonna stay with me, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere ever again,” Prowl replied.

Without need for words, they shifted on the berth, so Prowl was on his back, and Jazz curled up against his side. Happy, sated, and tired, Jazz dimmed his optics and sighed. “I love you, Prowl. More than anyone ever.”

“I love you, too,” Prowl replied, gently giving Jazz’s achy body a squeeze.

Between the overload and his autorepair working on all those repair welds, Jazz didn’t last much longer, slipping offline in the arms of his one and only love.

…

Mirage awoke with a mech in his berth, which he had for several weeks, so at first he thought nothing of it. But when he lit his optics to green plating not black and white, he grew very still. Hound was in his berth. He’d shown him pictures of his sparkling. Cried like a sparkling himself. Oh Primus… He winced, embarrassed about his behavior the previous evening. It had been unseemly and ugly of him to dump all that on Hound.

“You awake?” Hound quietly asked.

“I am,” Mirage replied, pressing his face into the green plating of Hound’s shoulder to hide himself.

“I, ah, well, I have to get going. I have shift in a bit,” Hound said, sounding disappointed.

“Of course.” Mirage did his best to compose himself, and pushed away, sitting up beside his visitor.

Hound sat up and turned toward Mirage, cupping his cheek, then capturing his lips in a kiss. At first Mirage was confused. Why in the world, especially after learning all he had about him in the last few days, would Hound want to kiss him still? He relented, though, needy and lonely as he was. But it ran deeper than that, even. As the kiss broke and he gazed into those kind optics of Hound’s, he felt his spark flutter. As unworthy as he might be, this feeling Hound evoked in him was intense and overpowering.

“After shifts, I’d love to hang out with you,” Hound said, hope ringing in his voice.

Mirage’s face heated as he nodded. “Comm me when you’re free.”

Hound practically beamed at that. “I will.” He then leaned in and they shared another lovely kiss before he slipped off the berth all grins. He paused when he saw the holoframe on the berthside table, and then he looked back at Mirage. “Thanks for sharing so much with me last night. It means the world to me you shared something so close to your spark.”

It was a shameful thing, to have been sparked by another, but at the same time Mirage was starting to understand that wasn’t how Hound saw it. He shyly nodded.

Leaning over with one hand on the berth, he stole one last quick kiss. “I’ll see you later.” He then bounded out Mirage’s quarters, clearly one very happy mech.

Mirage sank where sat once Hound was gone. He wasn’t worthy of such adoration. He glanced at the frame currently off, remembering how much Shadow loved him and how much he’d loved him back. Holding him in his lap and reading old Cybertonian stories, carrying him on his shoulders as they wandered through the gardens of their home, all those memories which he’d carefully sealed away deep inside were freed again. It hurt, but it wasn’t a crippling sort of pain now. More just an ache of loss he’d probably always know.

Picking up the frame, Mirage held it in his lap and turned it on. He watched the images play for a while. “I could never love anyone as much as I loved you,” he said to the images of his long-dead sparkling. “But I think maybe I’m ready to accept you’re really gone. Ready to maybe let someone in close to my spark again. Please don’t think badly me of me for it.”

…

Laughing, Jazz was pleasantly surprised the twins had stopped by medbay to see him after their shifts. He sat on his berth, listening to Sideswipe retell what happened between Prowl and Soundwave with some obvious exaggeration.

“I pointed my gun right at him and told him there’s no way he’s coming back with us!” Sideswipe said, gesturing with his hand in the shape of a gun as he pointed it.

“That’s not exactly how it went,” Sunstreaker said, shaking his head at his brother.

“Yeah it is,” Sideswipe replied in earnest. “Then Prowl was like ‘What’s going on down there?’ and Soundwave was all ‘None of your business’ and then Prowl totally guessed that it was them fighting each other–”

“Hardly a guess, Sideswipe,” Prowl interrupted from the doorway.

Jazz beamed as he glanced over at Prowl. “His version of the story is lot more action-packed than yours, though,” he said.

Prowl subtly smiled. “I’m sure it is.”

Sunstreaker stifled a laugh, which was met with Sideswipe punching his arm.

“Well, we should let you rest and everything. Just wanted to say ‘hi’,” Sideswipe said.

“Yeah, we’re glad you’re gonna be alright, and everything is how it should be,” Sunstreaker added.

“Thanks. I’m happy it all worked out despite my completely stupid choices,” Jazz replied.

“When you’re feeling better, Smokes started up his card game in the lounge again. You should come play since you always win. He hates that,” Sideswipe said, laughing.

Sunstreaker gazed at his brother with clear adoration as he gently guided him toward the door. “See you both around.”

Jazz and Prowl both nodded to the twins.

“See you,” Sideswipe said with a lop-sided grin and wave as they filed out of Jazz’s medbay room.

Jazz pat the empty the space next to him on the berth, and Prowl sat down. Sliding an arm around Jazz’s waist, he gently hugged him to his side. “And how is the patient?”

“Good, actually. Ratch said my welds are healing up well, and you’re allowed to bust me outta here,” Jazz replied.

Prowl smiled at that. “Good to know. I had all your things moved back to our quarters. I hope you don’t think I’m assuming too much?” Prowl’s doorwings twitched slightly, giving away his hidden fear that all still wasn’t right between them.

It made Jazz sad to know that his behavior under the influence of that coding had hurt Prowl so much. “Don’t be silly. I belong with you. And this time, I’ll unpack and clutter up the place properly.”

Relief washed over Prowl’s face as he nodded.

“You know I love you, right? That all that stuff I said or did wasn’t really me?” Jazz asked.

“I know,” Prowl replied. He then kissed Jazz’s cheek. “And I love you, too.”

Things were good again between them, but Jazz knew they each had some raw wounds that were going to take work to heal, which they really should address sooner rather than later if possible. In only a couple more months they were going to be taking care of sparkling, and that was going to add it’s own sort of strain on their relationship.

“You alright?” Prowl asked after a moment. “You look... worried?”

Jazz half-smiled. “Just having one of those huge realization moments. You and me are gonna have a sparkling to look after. It’s sort of overwhelmingly huge to think about, you know?”

Prowl nodded. “It will change our lives in ways we can’t anticipate.” He then gently squeezed Jazz. “But I have faith this sparkling will have a wonderful life with us.”

“Since when did we switch places?” Jazz asked teasingly.

“What do you mean?” Prowl asked, doorwings perking up slightly.

“Normally I’m the one that’s all calm in the face of insanity, while you’re in a twist that things aren’t going according to a plan. But right now I’m totally freaked out that we’re going to have a sparkling _on Earth_ in the _middle of a war_ with the Decepticons, and you seem totally calm, cool and collected,” Jazz replied.

“Who said I don’t have a plan?” Prowl replied. “No sparkling of ours will know a war torn upbringing.”

Visor brightening, Jazz stared at Prowl. “ _You’re_ gonna end millennia-long fighting between factions?”

“I aim to, yes,” Prowl replied confidently.

Jazz shook his head as a smile curved his mouth. “You’re completely insane. No wonder I love you.”

Prowl chuckled a little, and nuzzled Jazz’s helm. “We can talk about all that over the coming months. Right now, I want to take you back to our quarters.”

“ _Our_ quarters,” Jazz repeated. “I have to admit, that sounds like a perfect plan to me.”

…

Mirage walked with Hound back toward his quarters. Hound was busily telling him about patrol duty and how he and Trailbreaker found an injured animal off the side of the road.

“Lucky for me I put that blanket in my subspace. The deer should be alright, though. The rescue center had some other deer they were also nursing back to health.” Hound half-smiled. “Have I thoroughly bored you yet?”

“Not in the least,” Mirage replied as they reached his quarters. He entered the code and they both ducked inside. “I enjoy listening to you.”

Hound laughed a little. “Don’t have to be all polite with me. If I start rambling about something and you’re not interested, just tell me. Won’t hurt my feelings, promise.”

Mirage wasn’t bored, though. He liked the warmth of Hound’s voice, especially when he was talking about something that he felt passionately about. “If that ever happens, then I’ll definitely let you know, but I assure that’s not the case at the moment.”

“So, um, well. How was your day? You go see Jazz?” Hound asked.

Mirage folded his arms over his chest. “No. I told him if he broke his promise I wouldn’t forgive him. And he broke it.”

Hound looked dumbstruck. “But... he’s your best friend. He almost died.”

Frowning, Mirage hardened his gaze. “I know that. But he betrayed me. If he asks for forgiveness I’ll give it. But he’s the one in the wrong, so he has to apologize.”

“That’s how it is between you guys?” Hound asked.

“That’s how it is _period_.” Mirage was confused by Hound’s less than supportive response. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, I dunno. Seems like Jazz was trying to protect you. It wasn’t done out of malice or anything. If I were in your place, I wouldn’t _not_ see him until he apologized,” Hound replied with a shrug.

Mirage unfolded his arms and deflated a little. “I can see your point. Maybe I’ll stop by medbay to see him tomorrow.”

“Actually, I think he’s all moved back into Prowl’s now. I saw Bluestreak and Smokescreen moving his stuff earlier,” Hound replied.

Mirage nodded. “Ah. Well, that’s good news he’s been released.”

They stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment.

Mirage’s face felt hot with embarrassment. What if he’d chosen to open up to Hound and it was a huge mistake? What if he wasn’t what Hound expected him to be? He would have to offer other parts of himself to hopefully regain ground with him. Give him other reasons to still like him–

“You upset with me?” Hound asked after a moment.

Mirage’s optics brightened. “No, not at all.”

Hound closed the small space between them, and gently took hold of Mirage’s hands. “I shouldn’t stick my nose in with my opinions when you didn’t ask. You two have been friends a long time.”

“I value your opinion,” Mirage quietly replied.

They gazed into one another’s optics, and then kissed. This was territory Mirage was more familiar with. At first it was lip-only, but he parted his mouth, gently prying Hound’s lips apart with his before slipping his glossa into the opposing heat. Hound actually moaned into the kiss, and their glossae met, playfully snaking around one another.

 _Other reasons for him to like me…_ Mirage freed one hand from Hound’s grasp and slowly skimmed it over his plating, starting at his hip and ending at the middle of his chest. The kiss broke, and they each gasped.

“That was, uh, really nice,” Hound said, optics darker.

“Would you like more?” Mirage asked.

“More?” Hound looked vaguely confused.

Mirage dropped down to one knee, and easily fell into the role of his former self, the second born noble, mouthing over Hound’s closed interface array cover. He’d been trained to please and always offer pleasure. “I’ve been taught several techniques,” he said when the cover didn’t open for him, despite the pooling heat. “I’ll do whatever you like.”

Hound suddenly let go of Mirage’s other hand and stepped back out of range. “What are you, I mean, you’re not…” Flustered, and clearly upset, Hound shook his head, trying to find the right words.

Equally confused, Mirage frowned. “I didn’t mean to offend you with my offer.”

“Why are you acting all different?” Hound asked.

Mirage sat back on his heels on the floor, frown turning into a scowl. “You prefer my being pathetic and sobbing?”

“I prefer you being _you._ Sometimes that’s crying or being upset, or when you complain about how the energon on Earth tastes, or that smile you get after you’ve won an argument, or how brave you are in battle, or all the little and big things that made me fall for you. This-” Hound gestured to Mirage on the floor. “This is some noble nonsense!”

 _Noble nonsense?_ Mirage’s emotional walls shot back up. He should’ve known better than to let anyone close again. He pushed to stand, a cold expression on his face. “I _was_ a noble. It wasn’t nonsense to me, it was my life. I think maybe you should go.”

Deflating, Hound shook his head with obvious regret about his choice of wording. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Not half as sorry as I am,” Mirage replied in a sharp tone.

Hound sadly frowned. “Please, I just, this isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Well, there will be nothing between us now. Please leave,” Mirage replied.

Hound grimaced, then nodded before quietly leaving his quarters.

When the door shut, Mirage’s optics glassed over with tears. He put a hand over his mouth and started to cry. Why be so upset? Hound had just insulted his entire way of life before the war. He should be angry not upset… So why was this hurting so much? He sat down on his berth and continued to cry. Primus, what a failure he was in so many ways.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz works through his issues as best he can while being driven by carrier protocols. Mirage and Hound talk.

Rolling his head back against the berth, Prowl moaned. Jazz mouthed his exposed neck and continued to thrust hard and fast into the lovely, inviting heat between Prowl’s legs. He’d woken with his array burning, and this time his half-awake kisses and groping had been with the correct mech. The mech that his spark pulsed for.

Jazz whined, his spike throbbing as he chased down overload with a vengeance. Prowl panted and whimpered, vulnerable and beautiful splayed out underneath him.

Prowl’s body suddenly tensed and his lips parted with a soundless cry as his valve squeezed down hard around Jazz’s spike. He held himself buried in Prowl, relishing the pulsing, rhythmic spasms of his valve in the throes of overload.

“Primus, you feel so good,” Jazz huskily groaned.

Whimpering, Prowl’s body went slack as he smiled at Jazz with a dazed expression.

Jazz resumed thrusting, but it only took a few more rolls of his hips before he overloaded, too. Once again buried deep, he moaned lowly as his spike exploded, pumping into Prowl’s still quivering valve. After he finished, he sagged over Prowl and they both softly panted as their cooling fans kicked on.

“That was a lovely way to wake up,” Prowl commented as he gently pet one of Jazz’s helm horns.

“Frag yeah, it was,” Jazz replied with a sated smile. “Sparkling is all nice and calm now, too.”

“Should I expect this every morning?” Prowl asked with a small chuckle.

“Ratch said I’d be like this for the last phase. Not sure if it’ll get more intense or not. But–” Jazz lifted his head and gazed at Prowl. “–that was a lot of fun. I wouldn’t mind more of it.”

“I’m more than happy to indulge you,” Prowl replied.

Jazz grinned in response.

“But, I should get cleaned up and to my office for a bit,” Prowl said regretfully.  

“I’m gonna recharge more. That sort of tired me out,” Jazz replied, rolling off and flopping on his back next to Prowl in the berth.

Prowl sat up, pausing to smile and gaze at Jazz. “I love you.”

Jazz poked Prowl in the side. “Love you, too.” It felt like they were making up for lost time, getting in all the ‘i love yous’ they could now. Not that he minded. Part of him yearned to spark merge again, but with his being a carrier, that would be far too dangerous for him and their sparklet. He was definitely looking forward to the next time they could, though.

Prowl heaved a sigh, then stood up and padded quietly into the adjoining washrack.

Jazz happily curled up in a ball on the berth and soon drifted off again.

_Starscream’s hands moved all over his plating, groping his thighs, then massaging his spike before moving up over his chest and rubbing at his headlights. He was tied up again, arms over his head, array open and exposed, but this wasn’t back on that base, it was someplace unknown. That raspy yet shrill voice talked at Jazz while he pounded his spike into him over and over. Jazz shivered, sickened at the idea of overloading but feeling utterly out of control of his body as the pleasure crested inside him. He cried out, hating himself and yet loving the feel of that thick spike filling him–_

Jazz woke with a gasp, optics bright. What an awful mixture of dream and memory... When he uncurled himself, the wet, charged sensation in his valve caused him to wince. Shifting to lie on his back, he let the cover snap open, hoping maybe some cooler air might help stem the burning need in his array. After a moment, he was aware it wasn’t doing a slagging thing. Reluctantly, he sank the fingers into his valve and then rubbed in circles over the platelets that lined the leading edge to stimulate himself into overload.

A deep sense of guilt filled his chest when the images of Starscream overtook his attempts to imagine Prowl. The more he gave into the awful memory of how it felt to have Starscream inside him, he closer he got to overloading. The shame of it made his face heat, but that wasn’t enough to stop his mind from wandering to that moment when he teetered so close to losing control–

Jazz overloaded with a sharp cry, his valve squeezing his fingers, the platelets quivering with each tremor of pleasure that pulsed through his array. He writhed on the berth and whimpered until the moment passed, leaving his systems warmly humming. “What the frag is wrong with me? I’ll get off to imagining that fragger but my entire array freezes up when Prowl just touches me?”

Disgusted with himself, Jazz got up and went into the washrack. He stood under the water for a long time before he finally used a cloth to properly clean himself. Was he glitched? Had what happened to him messed up his processor? Primus, he hoped not. Once he was clean, he decided he needed to confer with his best friend. Plus, he owed Mirage an apology anyway. Grabbing a cloth, he dried himself off and then left his new quarters in search of answers.

…

Hound sat in the refectory with Trailbreaker. He stared down at his barely touched energon, thinking about the night before. Why had Mirage acted that way? And why did he have to put his foot right in his mouth like that?

“You have patrol today, right?” Trailbreaker asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I do,” Hound replied, glancing up at his friend.

“Any particular reason you’re not fueling up then?” Trailbreaker asked.

Hound lifted his cube up and took a sip. “Just have some stuff on my mind.”

Trailbreaker smiled and shook his head. “Would that stuff have a name? _Mirage_ , maybe?”

Hound frowned and set his cube back down on the table. “Maybe.” His spark ached when he thought about the hurt look on Mirage’s face when he said ‘noble nonsense’. He didn’t know how else to describe it, though. It was like Mirage was being someone else… Someone he didn’t know.

“Whoa, you’re _really_ upset. What happened?” Trailbreaker asked.

“I may have ruined everything between us last night,” Hound admitted. “Said something I shouldn’t have.”

Trailbreaker sympathetically frowned. “You apologize?”

“I did, but he kicked me out. I don’t think he’s gonna want to see me for a while.” Hound shrugged, his spark aching at the thought of not getting to spend time with Mirage anymore.

“That sucks slag. I’m sorry,” Trailbreaker replied. “What did you say?”

“He was acting weird. Not like himself. It threw me and I sorta insulted his noble background,” Hound replied.

“Mirage got even more snobby than usual?” Trailbreaker asked, visor bright.

“No, the opposite. He was being all submissive and I don’t go in for that kind of thing. I never thought he would be like that with me,” Hound replied.

“Huh.” Trailbreaker then took a long swig of his fuel.

Hound leveled a look at his friend. “What? You only say ‘huh’ when you have something to say, but don’t wanna say it.”

Trailbreaker sheepishly smiled. “Mirage isn’t submissive with anyone, Hound. Not even Jazz, and everyone on base was convinced those two were together.”

“Yeah, and?” Hound didn’t quite get what his friend was driving at.

“Don’t you get it? He must _really_ like you. Being like that with you, he’s treating you with a higher status than his own. And in the nobility, that’s a sign of respect,” Trailbreaker replied. “Well, according to some of the romance novels I’ve read, anyway.”

Hound couldn’t help but laugh a little at his friend’s penchant for reading those sorts of stories. Still, that explained a lot if Trailbreaker was right. “But I’m _not_ a noble.”

“No one here is, but that doesn’t mean that’ll change how he acts. I think you should try to apologize again, and just be honest about not being comfortable with submissive partners. I bet he’ll be understanding, but you gotta explain it,” Trailbreaker replied.

Hound nodded. “Yeah, you might be right.” He drank a few gulps of his fuel. “I’ll try to find him after my patrol.”

…

Jazz wandered through the base trying to locate Mirage but to no avail. He wasn’t in the Special Ops prep room, the washracks, his quarters, the refectory or even the lounge. Jazz tried to ping his friend’s comm, but got a busy signal back. “Must be really fragged off at me,” Jazz muttered.

Suddenly his comm link pinged and he answered.

::Jazz, go tell your subordinate that the rooftop is not a place to go hang out, :: Red Alert snapped.

::’Raj? Is he on the roof? :: Jazz asked.

::Who else would I be talking about? He’s blocking one of the cameras! I can’t get a clear view of the–::

Jazz cut the line and headed for the upper deck where the ladder for the porthole to the roof was. If Mirage was on the roof then he must be really upset. Jazz knew he was probably mad at him, but he had a feeling something else was going on to drive his best friend to the roof and put a busy signal on his comm.

He climbed up the ladder, and pushed the porthole hatch open. Peering out, he saw Mirage sitting on the far edge of the roof. He pulled himself up and out, and quietly padded across to his friend.

“Hey, ‘Raj,” Jazz said as he approached.

Mirage didn’t look up, gaze fixated on the horizon. “Hey, Jazz.”

Something was definitely wrong. Where was the snappy remark about taking so long to come find him? Or the snobby, yet cute look of annoyance he’d get when he was mad at Jazz? Instead, Mirage looked like he was a million miles away inside his own head.

Jazz glanced at the cameras mounted on the roof just behind them, and waved to Red before plopping down next to Mirage. “So, ah, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have knocked you out like I did. And I shouldn’t have broken my promise,” Jazz said.

Mirage continued to stare out across the landscape. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

Jazz frowned at that. “Course I do.”

“You did it because you wanted to protect me, right?” Mirage asked.

“Well, yeah. But I broke my promise,” Jazz replied. “And that means I owe you an ‘I’m sorry’.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mirage replied. He finally glanced at Jazz, optics roaming his frame. “Lots of welds. Are you in pain?”

Jazz shrugged. “Nah. I’m just a little sore.”

“Soundwave fixed your coding, I assume. I heard you moved back in with Prowl?” Mirage replied.

“Yeah, I’m Surrogate-code free…” Jazz sighed. “Okay, ‘Raj, what’s goin’ on? You only come up here when you’re tryin’ to avoid everyone.”

Mirage looked away again, and folded his hands in his lap. “I made a very large error in judgement.”

“Is this about me?” Jazz asked.

Looking back at Jazz, Mirage shook his head and dimmed his optics. “No. This is about Hound.”

Jazz’s worried frown deepened. “What happened?”

“I allowed myself to think I might be happy with Hound as more than a friend. I thought wrong.” Mirage looked down at his hands.

“But, that doesn't answer my question,” Jazz replied. “What exactly went down?”

Mirage pursed his lips for a moment, then sighed with resignation. “Hound insulted my noble background.”

“Why would he do that? That sounds nothing like Hound,” Jazz replied, confused.

“We were, um, _kissing_ … and I offered to do whatever he’d like. Which is what I was trained to do for potential partners,” Mirage explained. “To which he pulled away from me, saying I wasn’t acting like myself.”

Full picture finally painted, Jazz sympathetically smiled. He had to admit, it had been kind of nice to be object of Mirage’s desire for so long. That was definitely over now. Referring to Hound as a ‘potential partner’ meant Mirage was emotionally invested. This wasn’t a game like it had been with Jazz.

“This is who I am, though,” Mirage said, shaking his head. “And I’m not good enough for him.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Jazz countered. “I bet you anything it comes down to feelin’ insecure ‘round him. But Hound likes you as you are. You don’t need to worry about impressing him,” Jazz replied.

“Is that what this feeling is? Insecurity?” Mirage frowned. “I suppose I hadn't thought about it that way.”

“Thing is, I've always loved you just as you are, and after I chatted with Hound about you, I know he adores you. And not because he sees you as a prize, but because of the real you,” Jazz replied.

“Who’s to say my desire to please a partner isn't the real me?” Mirage asked with a petulant frown.

“It's a part of you, sure. But the sometimes snobby, difficult, funny, beautiful and good-sparked parts are more of who you are than whatever your social status before the war was. You've fought next to all of us, you've endured horrors to further our fight. You're equal to the rest of us. Not better, not worse. _One_ of us,” Jazz said, hoping to get Mirage to see himself how others did, instead of through the warped lens of nobility.

Mirage sighed. “I can't help but feel inferior to Hound. I've been sparked by another mech, and used like a service drone by the Decepticons… How could I ever be his equal?”

Jazz frowned. “You know, we’ve all been through slag. I’m sure Hound has, too.”

“I suppose.” Mirage glanced at Jazz. “How did you know Prowl was more than the uptight aft he is to the rest of us? How did you know he was right for you?”

Snorting and laughing, Jazz shook his head. “Truth is, we’re all more than what’s on the surface. I’m not all smiles, and I can be sad or quiet with him and it’s okay, just like he’s not always some hardaft around me. Sometimes he cracks these dry jokes that’ll send me into a laughing fit. He’s smart and witty, and, well, _gorgeous_. So I fell for him. Hard. But that’s because bit by bit we opened up to one another.”

“You think I should forgive Hound for his comment, then?” Mirage asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Jazz replied in a more serious tone. “Look, it won’t all happen at once. Takes time, but most of all it takes both of you bein’ flexible and willing to talk ‘bout stuff when it goes sideways.”

“I do really like him,” Mirage quietly replied.

Jazz grinned. “And you deserve to be happy.”

“Maybe,” Mirage said with a small sigh. He then looked at Jazz. “I’m glad you’re back to yourself and that you and Prowl are with one another, as it should be.”

“Yeah, things are a little wonky, but I think we should be okay.” Jazz bit at his lower lip. “So um, could I ask you somethin’?”

“You can ask me anything,” Mirage replied.

“This whole third phase thing, is it gonna get more intense?” Jazz asked, unsure how to exactly explain how he’d self serviced to a fragged up fantasy earlier.

“Yes. At first the appointed lover I had came once a week. But eventually, I requested to have him almost every day, until–” Mirage impishly smiled. “Well, I basically didn’t let him leave for almost two weeks right before the separation. Two _very_ lovely weeks…” he mused. “Well, minus the times my bonded insisted on sitting in.”

“Wait,” Jazz held up his hands. “You’re bonded _watched_ you with _someone else_?”

Mirage shrugged. “He didn’t want to be completely left out, I guess. I didn’t mind, I was too overcome with desire to really give his voyeurism much thought.”

“That’s some pretty intense protocols.” Jazz huffed and looked out over the horizon.

“But you shouldn’t be at that stage yet.” Mirage frowned a little. “Is something wrong? Do you not feel desire for Prowl?”

“Oh, I do. I stripped his gears but good this morning, started before he was even really awake, too,” Jazz said with a smile. “But, um, I was pretty tired after and had a short nap. When I woke up, my array was back to buzzing.”

Mirage pursed his lips for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m about to ask this...but did you only spike Prowl?”

“Yeah, why?” Jazz asked.

“Well, in my own experience, I required both my valve and spike to overload to have any true relief,” Mirage replied.

Jazz deflated a little at that, and fingered the rooftop. “Yeah, I kinda self-serviced when I woke up.”

“That’s perfectly normal,” Mirage replied.

“I did it while remembering Starscream spiking me,” Jazz admitted in a quieter voice.

“Starscream? What are you talking about?” Mirage shook his head, confused.

“When I was captured. Thrust and Dirge used me as a frag drone, then Starscream came in, threw them out and spiked me to try an’ get me give up more info,” Jazz explained. “With those two morons, I felt nothing. But with Starscream, he barely did anything and I was on the verge of, you know. But we were interrupted by the explosions in the base.”

“I see,” Mirage replied. “And, earlier you overloaded yourself to the memory?”

Jazz shuddered slightly and nodded. “Yeah. You think I’m glitched? Like, did somethin’ mess me up by being there while sparked?”

“I don’t think you’re glitched.” Mirage leaned back on his hands in a more relaxed posture. “You didn’t get revved at all by the other two, right?”

“No.” Jazz frowned at his friend.

“The explanation is pretty simple.” Mirage held Jazz’s gaze. “When I entered my third phase I interviewed almost ten mechs before I found the one I wanted to be my lover for the remainder of the phase.”

“What the frag does that have to do with me getting off to Starscream?” Jazz asked, annoyed and ashamed at the same time.

“Let’s see, now. The mechs you’ve had protocol driven desire for have been _me_ , Prowl and Starscream. All handsome mechs, if I do say so myself,” Mirage replied.

“Wait, you’re sayin’ I think Starscream is good-lookin’?” Jazz asked, scowling at Mirage.

“If you muted that vocalizer of his, he’s quite pretty for a flier.” Mirage canted his head a little. “You aren’t glitched. You’re just being driven by carrier protocols.”

“But, I jerked away from Prowl when he tried to touch me down... you know.” Jazz shook his head.

“You’re still traumatized from what happened, which isn’t unusual,” Mirage replied. “You and Prowl have had to deal with this kind of thing before, right?”

“Yeah. Takes me a few weeks to be okay again, but I seriously don’t want to be overloading to the memory of Starscream of all mechs! I can’t. It’s messed up. Good-looking or not…” Jazz replied with a disgusted look.

“Would you like a suggestion?” Mirage asked.

“Why else would I be tellin’ you something so embarrassing?” Jazz smirked.

“Self pleasure in front of Prowl,” Mirage replied.

Jazz opened his mouth to protest, but on second thought shut it. Having Prowl there to watch might help prevent him from reliving the memory. He’d be focused on performing for Prowl instead. “That’s a pretty good idea.”

“I know,” Mirage replied in usual haughty voice.

Jazz smiled, happy Mirage’s mood had lifted. They might not be right for each other as lovers, but they were excellent best friends.

“Hey!” Ironhide bellowed from the porthole in the roof. “You two need to come down before Red Alert has a complete melt down."

Jazz waved. “We’ll be right in!”

Ironhide eyed them both, then ducked back down inside.

“I suppose we should each go deal with our issues,” Mirage said, pushing to stand up and offering his hand to Jazz.

Taking hold, Jazz pulled himself up and grinned. “I hope you know I love you, Mirage. You’re my best friend.”

Mirage looked momentarily surprised, then he warmly smiled. “I love you, too. Even if you’re a liar.” He pinched one of Jazz’s horns.

Jazz yelped, then poked Mirage in the side before jogging out of range toward the porthole. Mirage gave chase, and they both laughed when they reached the opening. Their friendship was as strong as ever, and Jazz was eternally grateful to have someone in his life he could turn to when he needed advice or help.

…

Taking the initiative, Jazz went to Prowl’s office right after chatting with Mirage. He poked his head in, seeing Prowl was busy reading something, and flashed a grin as he knocked on the wall next to the open door.

Prowl looked up, clearly surprised but also happy to see Jazz. “Come in.”

Jazz sauntered in, all smiles. He rounded the desk to the side Prowl was on, carefully moved the datapads aside, then hopped up to sit on the edge of the desk right in front of him. Prowl glanced at the open door, then reached around Jazz for his remote, closing and locking it.

Setting the remote down, he placed each of his white hands on Jazz’s thighs. “I gather there’s something you need?”

“Yeah,” Jazz replied. “See, this whole phase three thing requires overloads from both parts of my array apparently. ‘Raj said that was only way he got any relief.” He purposely left out the fact he'd already dealt with his array to his messed up fantasy.

“And you only spiked me earlier…” Prowl replied, now looking a little unsure.

“But, you know, things for me after being a prisoner on that base have been off. ‘Raj made a suggestion I wanted to try out, and I didn’t really wanna wait for later,” Jazz replied, letting one of his hands push between his legs as he parted them.

Prowl’s doorwings ticked upward as his gaze lowered to where Jazz was rubbing his interface cover. “What was the suggestion?”

“Self-pleasurin’ in front of you,” Jazz replied. “Thought maybe I could get myself off, then have a tasty treat after.”

Prowl looked back up into Jazz’s visor. “In the middle of the day? On my desk?”

“Well, yeah. Hotter this way, right?” Jazz asked, chuckling.

“The idea has appeal,” Prowl replied with a small smile, but then it faded to a more serious expression. “I just hope that this isn’t pushing too fast for your recovery?”

“I don’t have time to wait for things to sorta fade memorywise. Sparkling needs his energy surges, and my array could care less what happened to it a week ago,” Jazz replied.

Prowl’s concerned look intensified. “You know you can talk me about things, right?”

This was not going how Jazz hoped. He stopped rubbing himself and frowned. “I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t wanna share the gorey details. Don’t need you seein’ me different.”

There was a flicker of disappointment on Prowl’s face, but it lasted less than a moment. He forced a small smile and gently twirled his fingers over Jazz’s thighs. “I didn’t mean to dampen the mood.”

Jazz leaned forward and kissed the middle of Prowl’s chevron. “I know you’re lookin’ out for me, but I’ll be fine. Don’t worry so much.”

Prowl nodded and gazed at up at him with that adoring look that never failed to make Jazz’s spark flutter. Jazz then smiled and resumed rubbing the closed cover. His array barely took any prodding to get it buzzing again. Having Prowl front and center helped keep his bad memories at bay, too. He finally let the cover retract, and Prowl’s doorwings lifted as he focused on the sight of Jazz’s exposed array. Skipping past his partly onlined spike, Jazz rubbed his thumb in circles against the sensitive leading edge of platelets around his valve.

“Lovely,” Prowl quietly said, taking in the view.

“You should work on getting that spike of yours ready,” Jazz said just before sinking his forefinger into his already slicked valve. “I’m gonna give it special kisses as soon as I’m all done.”

Prowl genuinely smiled, and sat back in his chair. “I look forward to that.” He then fingered his closed array cover while continuing to watch Jazz.

Jazz pumped his finger in and out, his valve needily squeezing each time he sank it in. He soon added a second finger, dipping them both inside while using his thumb to rub the platelets. He moaned and shivered, enjoying how it felt as much as being watched. Prowl soon let his cover snap open, and palmed his spike. Jazz couldn’t help but glance at it, remembering how good Prowl’s spike felt spreading him open. He groaned, and began to pump faster.

“Primus,” Prowl breathed, optics fixated on Jazz’s hand.

“Blessed me with a nice array didn’t he?” Jazz replied in an airy voice as he began to shiver from the waves of pleasure rippling through him.

“Every micrometer of your frame is gorgeous,” Prowl replied. “Especially your spark…”

Jazz whimpered at that. The love and desire lacing Prowl’s voice reaffirmed why _this mech_ held his spark’s deepest love. His hand’s movements hastened, and he soon tipped over the edge, overloading. He moaned and shuddered, his valve clamping around his fingers. It felt lovely, and all without unwanted images crowding his mind. As the sensation passed, he smiled and focused his gaze on Prowl who was still leisurely tending his spike. Jazz removed his fingers and suckled them clean. Prowl moaned in response, squeezing his spike harder in his hand.

Jazz slid off the desk and knelt down between Prowl’s parted legs. “You enjoyed watching, hm?” he said before flicking his glossa out and teasing the head of Prowl’s spike.

Prowl groaned, and continued to pump his spike at the base as Jazz licked his way around the top. Reaching up, Jazz took over for Prowl, sliding his fingers around the base and then sinking his mouth over it. He suckled the head, pulled back, then sank down further until the head tapped his intake. Prowl’s hands grasped tightly at his chair’s seat and he threw his head back to moan. Jazz snaked his glossa around the surging spike as he began to bob his head, pulling partway off and sinking back down over and over.

The quiver of Prowl’s body, his moans, and the way his spike throbbed hotly in his mouth were nothing short of beautiful to Jazz.

The door buzzed, and Prowl grunted. “Frag,” he whispered.

Jazz was undeterred, though, he continued to work over Prowl’s spike, intent on overloading him.

The door buzzed again, followed by a knock.

Prowl gently fingered one of Jazz’s horns. “Please, stop for a moment…” he said, his voice airy.

Letting Prowl’s spike slip from his lips, he pouted. “Whoever it is can wait.”

Another buzz and a louder knock.

“Apparently not,” Prowl replied with a regretful look.

“Okay, fine.” Jazz grabbed the chair and scooted backward, huddling into the space under Prowl’s desk at his feet, completely hidden from any visitor. “Answer it, and I won’t say a word.”

Prowl shook his head and smiled. “You are trouble incarnate, you know that?”

The buzzer then buzzed several times in a row.

“Answer it, before whoever it is has a meltdown,” Jazz said.

Picking up the remote, Prowl unlocked the door and opened it.

“Why weren’t you answering?” Red Alert said as he entered the office.

“I was busy,” Prowl replied with a straight face. Jazz had to stifle a laugh. “What do you need that’s so urgent?”

“I need to report both Mirage and Jazz for violating conduct rules,” Red Alert replied.

Jazz frowned at that.

“What exactly did they do?” Prowl asked.

“Mirage was up on the roof, and when I asked Jazz to go get him down from there because he was obscuring several surveillance cameras, he went up there, too! He’s supposed to be a commanding officer!” Red Alert said, voice pitching higher.

Shaking his head, Jazz gazed at the spike losing it’s hard shape in front of him. He leaned forward and licked the head, making it jump. A white hand blindly reached under to bat at Jazz, but that only made it more fun. He ducked the seeking fingers and stole another lick to the spike.

“Are they still up there?” Prowl managed to say in an even voice.

“Well, no. Ironhide went up and told them to come down, so they did,” Red Alert admitted.

Jazz then suckled the head of Prowl’s spike, which was met with a hand pushing on his helm, but he refused to give up his prize. This was way too fun to stop.

“Then I fail to see the issue,” Prowl replied. This time his voice wavered slightly.

Red Alert huffed. “Jazz never listens to me!”

“To be perfectly honest, he doesn’t listen to anyone, not even me,” Prowl replied, pinching one of Jazz’s helm horns hard to get him to stop.

Jazz pulled off and rubbed his bruised horn with a frown.

“Well, I just wanted to report it. Maybe Optimus could talk to him,” Red Alert said.

“Your complaint is noted, and I will share your concern with Optimus,” Prowl replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of something that I need to finish dealing with.”

Jazz grabbed Prowl’s hand and licked his fingers in lieu of his spike.

“Yes, sir,” Red Alert replied.

Footsteps were followed by the door snapping back shut, and Prowl shoved his chair back from the desk. “You’re incorrigible!”

Jazz crawled forward and grinned. “I want this as my new assignment.”

“What are you talking about?” Prowl asked in an exasperated tone.

Settling back between Prowl’s legs, he languidly licked up the shaft of his spike. “Sit under your desk, pleasurin’ you all day.”

The annoyed look on Prowl’s face faded to amusement. “Sorry about the hard pinch.” He gently rubbed the same helm horn, and Jazz pressed into the affectionate touch. “But I’m afraid as appealing as that might be, I can’t approve such an assignment.”

“Permission to finish what I started?” Jazz asked, playing into the role play.

Prowl smiled and nodded. “Granted a thousand times over.”

Jazz happily resumed, spike sinking into his mouth over and over. In no time Prowl’s spike was back to throbbing and hard. Prowl moaned and shivered, brought right up to the edge. Jazz gave his spike a few intense sucks and that was enough to send him over. Prowl held onto his chair seat with both hands and his hips lifted up, shoving his spike deep into Jazz’s mouth and right up against his intake, sending hot mech fluid right down his throat. As Prowl sank back into his seat, Jazz carefully suckled as he pulled off, making sure he didn’t leave a mess.

Sitting back on his heels he grinned up at Prowl. “You sure you don’t need me under your desk at all times?” he teased.

“I prefer you as my better half at my side.” Prowl smiled, looking sated and happy. Patting his lap, he gestured for Jazz to get off the floor. Hopping up, he sat on Prowl’s leg and draped himself against him.

“You have to admit that was fun,” Jazz said, fingering Prowl’s chest.

“I admit it,” Prowl replied, before kissing Jazz’s cheek.

Jazz sighed, feeling much better now that he’d found a workaround. He knew in a few weeks he’d be ready to be spiked again, and in the meantime he’d get what he needed for the sparkling and give Prowl the attention he deserved, too.

...

Hound buzzed Mirage’s quarters but there was no answer. He frowned at the closed door, wondering if things were really done between them. Pressing his hand to it, he sighed. “I just wish I could explain and say I was sorry,” he murmured.

Turning away, he took a step, bumping into something he couldn't see. Suddenly Mirage shimmered into view.

“Mirage, hey! Uh, are you wandering the base in your cloak?” Hound asked.

“Yes,” Mirage replied. “I was looking for you and not much in the mood for chit chat with comrades.”

Hound considered making a joke about his being a spy, but he got hung up on the words ‘looking for him’... “You found me.”

“I think we should talk.” Mirage glanced around. “But not in the hallway.” He stepped forward, opened the door to his room and wandered inside. He then glanced back at Hound. “Coming in?”

Hound nodded and stepped inside. His spark was pulsing hard, and he hoped he would be able to say what he needed without putting his foot in his mouth again. “Mirage, I’m really sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t be so judgmental about things I don’t know anything–”

“You were absolutely right,” Mirage interrupted. He folded his arms over his chest and frowned. “The nobility were out of touch with reality, entrenched in traditions that were questionable at best. Jazz’s coding being a prime example of the sick behavior excused by money and long standing sparklines.”

“Even so, it wasn’t my place to say what I did,” Hound replied. “I was just taken by surprise, seeing you acting so differently.”

“You prefer my being snobby?” Mirage asked, his half-smile giving away the jab at his own expense.

“I wouldn’t call it that…” Hound replied, smiling a little.

“I like you, Hound,” Mirage admitted, unfolding his arms. “But I feel unsure of myself around you.”

Hound was honestly surprised Mirage would feel that way. “But I like you as you are.”

Softly sighing, Mirage frowned. “I’ve never been in a relationship that was not chosen for me,” he said, optics dimming. “This is completely new to me, and to be perfectly honest, it’s utterly terrifying.”

Stepping a little closer, Hound reached out and took hold of Mirage’s hand. “I want to know about you. Where you’ve been, where you want to be one day. There’s no pressure to be anyone in particular around me. Just be who you want to be.” He gently squeezed Mirage’s hand. “And I won’t lie, trusting someone else _is_ scary. Even for me. But at the same time, I like to think the risk is worth the potential reward.”

Mirage held his gaze. “You are such a romantic.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hound replied, smiling. “And you’re a lot more pragmatic. Makes for a good balance.”

“I suppose so,” Mirage replied, glancing at their linked hands. “What I want is to not be alone. But I will make mistakes and I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do stop myself from doing so.”

“As long as you’re willing to talk to me about things. Besides, I won’t be perfect, either. None of us are,” Hound replied.

“That’s reassuring,” Mirage said in a sarcastic, teasing tone.

Hound chuckled, and reached up with his free hand to cup Mirage’s cheek. “So, am I forgiven for being an aft?”

Mirage gazed into his optics and nodded.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Hound asked, leaning in and touching their noses.

“You better kiss me,” Mirage replied with a smirk.

Hound captured his lips in a lovely kiss that stirred his very spark. Mirage was nothing like the mech Hound pictured in his mind as being the one for him, but he didn’t want some ideal. He wanted the very real, the very stubborn, the very beautiful mech before him. As the kiss broke, he couldn’t help but grin. “I think I might need another one of those.”

“One of what?” Mirage asked, optics dazed as he frowned in confusion.

“Another kiss.” Hound leaned in, and their mouths met again. Glossae twinned between parted lips, linking them together.

His hope soared once again for the potential this new relationship brought them both.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a bad turn for Hound and Sunstreaker, leaving those close to them to struggle with the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... torture ahead. Please take warnings in tags seriously, this chapter turns quite dark.

Hound was in an excellent mood. The warmed pavement under his wheels, the sun out and shining brightly, the beautiful puffy clouds high up in the sky all made for a nice patrol shift. Even being paired with Sunstreaker wasn’t getting him down, despite the younger mech’s complaining over the comm about slow human drivers and the sun drying out his wax job.

The previous evening had been spent curled up with Mirage, talking late into the night before they recharged together. He’d asked about Mirage’s life before the war, wanting to better understand who his potential bondmate was. It had been enlightening and Hound was completely smitten. Mirage was such a complex, beautiful mech. He was very happy they’d made up.

::Reports of some kind of activity off exit 43,:: Red Alert said over their comm links.

::Investigate?:: Hound responded.

::Optimus advises a quick look, but to be careful. The human reports are conflicting. It looks like the Constructicons are dismantling a building for parts. Do not engage, only make visual confirmation and report back,:: Red Alert replied.

::On it,:: Sunstreaker replied before swerving across two lanes of traffic to take the exit ramp.

Hound followed in his wake, and they headed toward the coordinates. Only a mile or so down the road they spotted three of the five Constructicons. Hound pulled into a nearby parking lot to observe.

::Sunstreaker, park in here. We don’t want them to see us. Three against two,:: Hound said.

::We could easily take them,:: Sunstreaker replied, rolling forward slowly past the parking lot entrance.

::What part of ‘do not engage’ directly from Optimus are you not comprehending?:: Hound chided.

:: _Fine_.:: Sunstreaker backed up, and pulled into the lot, parking a space over from Hound.

They sat in silence, watching the enemy demolish the building and collect what they wanted. Humans had cleared the area, giving them access without interference.

::Three of them are spotted at the coordinates. They haven’t noticed us. Unsure where the others are at the moment,:: Hound reported in.

::Optimus and several others are on their way. Remain where you are until they arrive,:: Red Alert replied.

::So boring,:: Sunstreaker huffed.

Without warning the two missing Constructicons jumped down, landing on Hound and Sunstreaker. Not one to roll over, Sunstreaker immediately transformed and threw a punch to get the offending Decepticon off him. Hound transformed and tossed Scavenger off himself. He quickly threw up a hologram of a landscape to try and fool them. Grabbing Sunstreaker’s wrist, he pulled him to his feet, and then began to run, dragging the warrior with him.

“We can’t run! We need to fight!” Sunstreaker insisted.

“We’re out numbered!” Hound pointed out.

“How did they know we were there?” Sunstreaker asked as they rounded a corner.

They came to a dead stop when Megatron landed in the middle of the road, blocking their escape route. “What do we have here? Two lost Autobots?”

Sunstreaker dropped into a fighting stance. “I’ll show you losing!”

Hound quickly opened their comm line. ::We’re in trouble. Spotted, Megatron engaging us in fight–:: His message was cut short when Scrapper whacked him in the helm from behind with something large and metallic. Landing front first on the concrete, Hound groaned in pain.

“Hound!” Sunstreaker tried to move toward him, only to be restrained with a construction grade cable by two of the other Constructicons.

“Let’s get our little bargaining chips back to our base, hm?” Megatron said with a smug smile.

“You got it,” Hook stepped up and pushed a syringe against Hound’s neck, injecting him with something that plunged the spinning world around him into darkness.

…

Waking, Hound winced at the pain radiating from the back of his helm. Sitting up, he lit his optics and moved a hand to try and touch the damage only to discover his hands were cuffed together. At least they were in front, not locked behind him. He looked around, seeing he and Sunstreaker were in side-by-side prison cells, both bound the same way. Sunstreaker was lying on his back, optics lit, staring up at the ceiling.

“Sunny?” Hound whispered.  

“Yeah?” Sunstreaker replied in a flat tone.

“You okay?” Hound asked.

“Sure,” Sunstreaker replied.

Hound frowned at the weird reply. “What’s with you?”

Finally turning his head, Sunstreaker looked at Hound. “You ever been captured behind enemy lines before?”

“Um, not like this. I mean, a few times the battalion I was in early on in the war were captured, but we were usually all kept together until an exchange of prisoners,” Hound replied.

“Brace yourself. Mentally distance yourself from what’s going to inevitably going to happen to us,” Sunstreaker said. He then turned his gaze back toward the ceiling.

“What are you talking ab–” Hound cut himself off when he remembered Mirage’s statement about multiple spikes… “Slag. We’re…”

“We’re gonna be fragged every which way possible, especially with the Constructicons here. Just detach as best you can,” Sunstreaker replied.

Hound’s shoulders sank. They needed to find a way out of here. He refused to accept Sunstreaker’s warning. He got to his feet and began walking the cell, looking for any weakness he might be able to exploit. He tried to run one of his holograms, but the blow to his helm had damaged his ability to project. Frag, his head really hurt.

Footfall echoed and soon Megatron appeared. He stopped in front of their cells, looking down at Sunstreaker who was still lying on the floor, then shifting his gaze to Hound who was standing. “You are my bargaining chips. I need some assistance with an intolerable situation.”

More footsteps echoed before two Constructicons appeared.

“Get them up to the control room for the broadcast,” Megatron snapped at them.

Hook opened Sunstreaker’s cell and used an electrical prod to get him to stand up. “On your feet filthy Autobot scrap!”

Sunstreaker growled at the Constructicon, but one exchange of looks with Megatron and he quickly acquiesced.

Mixmaster opened Hound’s cell, and held up his own electrical prod. “Come with us, or get zapped. Which will it be?”

“I’m coming,” Hound replied, stepping out of the cell.

They were led up a short flight of stairs to a large control room of some sort. This didn’t look like their underwater base, the Nemesis. Hound wondered where they were. Megatron pointed to where he wanted his prisoners standing. “Get them in place!” he barked.

Mixmaster grabbed Hound by the arm, forcing him into place. Sunstreaker was shoved right next to him and then Megatron turned to the console, fingers tapping over the keys.

Suddenly a connection was made to Teletraan. Hound’s optics brightened when he saw Optimus flanked by Prowl and Jazz on one side and Ironhide on his other.

“Why hello there, Prime,” Megatron said with a sneer.

“Return our comrades,” Optimus demanded.

“That can be arranged. But only after we negotiate some terms,” Megatron replied.

“No negotiations. You _will_ return them,” Optimus said in a stern tone.

“Well, as you may or maynot be aware, I have a little situation with my Decepticons at the moment. I need your help reigning Starscream in,” Megatron continued undeterred.

Optimus shook his head. “That’s an issue you will have to resolve on your own.”

“I have tried. Unfortunately, Starscream has managed to abscond with all the fliers. Trust me, Prime, you much rather fight me than Starscream. He’s an idiot leading a bunch of blundering fools. He must be stopped,” Megatron replied.

“Stop him yourself,” Optimus replied. “We have no claim in this fight. Taking my soldiers like this violates wartime ethical codes.”

“Ethics?” Megatron started to laugh. “Oh, Prime. You are so out of touch. You will help me, or else I’ll broadcast their torture.” Megatron turned and gestured to the Mixmaster and Hook.

Next thing Hound knew there was an electrical prod in his side, sending a jolt of energy surging through his frame. Unable to withstand it, he yelled out in pain, body shaking uncontrollably. Panting as his systems tried to compensate for the overheating, the pain stopped as fast as it started. He cleared his vision, cycling his optics a few times. He saw Sunstreaker next to him being prodded, and crying out.

He only vaguely registered Megatron and Optimus talking. Wait, Optimus was shouting. Glancing back at the screen, looks of horror were on everyone’s faces. Hound frowned, his head too fuzzy from the electrical feedback to think clearly now.

“I’m so glad you see things from my perspective, Prime. See you soon,” Megatron said, punching a button on the console. The screen went black. Turning to face them, Megatron smirked. “Return them to the cells.”

“May we make use of them?” Hook asked, leering at Sunstreaker.

“As long as they are functional in the morning, do as you like,” Megatron said before he strode out of the control room.

“Tie ‘em up in the cells?” Mixmaster asked excitedly.

“Sounds good to me,” Hook replied.

…

“What? You need me to help you on this mission!” Mirage shouted at Jazz.

“You’re personally involved, you know the rules,” Jazz replied.

Standing in Jazz’s office, Mirage was doing his best not to completely lose control. But it was hard. He was finally involved in a real relationship with someone that was willing to be with him despite all his flaws and in an instant Megatron’s actions threatened everything.

“And you’re sparked! You shouldn’t be going on any mission at all! I _will_ remain professional and get the job done. You _know_ I can,” Mirage insisted.

Jazz sighed. “Prowl doesn’t think it would be a good idea.”

“No offense, but frag Prowl. I want to help rescue Hound. _And_ Sunstreaker. Let me. _Please_ ,” Mirage then pleaded.

“I often frag him,” Jazz replied with a small smile. “Alright. I approve. But don’t let your emotions overrule the objectives. Got it? We’re going in, planting the explosives, and getting back out. We let the beta team do their part to actually rescue them. Got it?”

Mirage sharply nodded. “Of course.”

Primus, he hoped Hound wouldn’t be abused while captured, but he knew the chances of that were slim. His spark ached for what he knew might happen. For how this might impact them. Losing Hound like this might end up breaking Mirage completely.

…

They’d been strung up in the cells. Wrists bound and hooked to the ceiling, leaving them both dangling. Sunstreaker was the one the Constructicons obviously favored, though. Hound frowned as he watched them attach a spreader bar to Sunstreaker’s ankles.

Mixmaster stayed in Hound’s cell, prod in hand as he watched his gestaltmates prep Sunstreaker. Was this is all really happening? Hound had no idea what lie in store, but seeing how distant and quiet Sunstreaker was spoke volumes.

“I get to go first,” Scrapper announced. He groped Sunstreaker, humming approvingly. “Didn’t get to play with you last time you were a guest of ours. Those slagging Seekers kept you all to themselves.”

“Fraggers,” Hook chimed in.

Longhaul wandered from Sunstreaker’s cell into Hound’s, visored gaze moving up and down his frame. “Can I use this one?”

“Do what you want,” Scrapper replied as he moved behind Sunstreaker. “Hook, take off his cover-”

Sunstreaker opened his interface array cover without a word.

“Oh, so compliant,” Scrapper crooned. “You want us all to take turns with you, hm?”

Hound thought he might purge. How had Mirage endured this? Let alone more than once? Longarm’s hands moved over his plating, and he winced.

Mixmaster laughed. “Don’t think he likes you.”

“Shut up. Doesn’t have to like me. Just has to open up like his friend over there,” Longhaul replied, leering at him.

“I’ll prod him if he doesn’t,” Mixmaster replied.

Hound looked over at Sunstreaker. Scrapper was already thrusting hard into him, grunting as he did. Hound’s spark pulsed faster with fear.

Longhaul groped between Hound’s legs. “Come on, open!”

Mixmaster stepped closer, the prod charging up. “Need a little incentive, huh?” Electricity arced between his plating and the prod before it even touched him. Another intense jolt sent his systems into disarray. He whimpered and shook, his body fighting to disperse the electricity. “Open up!” Mixmaster yelled. “Unless you like how it feels having your electrical systems overloaded?”

Hound compiled, the cover snapping back. Shame burned in his lines as he felt fingers poke inside him. The electrical charge had shorted out something in his visual cortex, making everything look blurred, which in a way he was sort of thankful for. He at least didn’t have to see them clearly now. Longhaul’s spike traded places with his fingers, filling Hound’s valve. Unlubricated it hurt.

“Got any of the oil we can use, he’s dry,” Longarm said. He saw blurry lime green and purple shapes move around him, and the spike pulled out for a moment. A warm liquid suddenly flooded his valve followed by that same spike. This time is moved smoothly inside him. He whimpered, fighting back the urge to cry.

Time started to lose meaning. Hound had no idea how long it went on, but he was used by several of the Constructicons. With his vision blurred, and his head aching, it helped him detach somewhat. Still. It was humiliating, painful and worse than he imagined.

Eventually he only heard sounds of moans and grunts but no one was touching him now. He turned his head slightly to catch the blurry sight of only one Constructicon left with Sunstreaker. When that one finished, he exited the cell, and they were left hanging where they were. He could feel fluid seeping down his inner thighs.

“Sunny?”

“Hm?”

“Is it over?” Hound asked.

“Yeah. For tonight, anyway,” Sunstreaker replied in a flat tone.

Hound prayed to Primus Optimus would come for them. He wasn’t sure he could endure another evening like this.

…

Mirage frowned as he shimmered out of sight. He didn’t think Jazz should be on this mission at all. He watched Jazz move carefully into position hidden behind a rocky outcrop and then hand signal Mirage to go place the explosives.

The meeting place was a few miles away from the Ark. Megatron would be arriving with Hound and Sunstreaker soon. The explosives were meant to create confusion, which Optimus would use to hopefully gain control of the situation. If not, Mirage also set secondary incendiaries near where Megatron would likely land when he arrived. Not knowing if there were spies already on the scene, Mirage was doing so with his cloak on. Once they were set, he moved to the perimeter.

The minutes felt like years as they waited. Finally, Optimus flanked by Prowl, Sideswipe, and Trailbreaker came rolling up. As they reached the meet point, Megatron flew in with the Constructicons from over the ridge’s canyon wall.

He landed exactly where Mirage wanted him too.

The Constructicons landed just behind him. Scrapper landed first, then the others. They were in pairs; one set holding Sunstreaker by the arms, and the other with Hound in their grasp.

“As promised, your Autobots in one piece,” Megatron said as he gestured. “Now, before the exchange I want to discuss strategy.”

Mirage carefully moved in closer, assessing Hound and Sunstreaker’s condition. He immediately saw the tell-tale signs of dried fluid on their legs, and rub marks on Sunstreaker’s ankle joints. His spark sank.

“Exchange first,” Optimus interrupted. “Then we’ll talk.”

“As if I’d fall for that, Prime,” Megatron sneered. “You think I like asking for your help to stop my out of control subordinate? I don’t! But I am left with no other choice!”

::Now.:: Prowl’s voice came over the comm link loud and clear.

Jazz set off the explosives meant as a distraction on the far side of the ridge. All heads turned toward the smoke and flying rocks.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Megatron bellowed.

“I should be asking you that!” Optimus replied, sounding just as upset. He was an excellent actor in Mirage’s opinion.

“I didn’t do that!” Megatron shouted back.

::Move in,:: Prowl commanded.

Mirage and Jazz moved with their usual speed from behind where the Decepticons were standing.

Jazz tossed a small grenade, that exploded off to the side, causing all the Constructicons to look that direction, away from him and Mirage. Moving in quickly, Jazz ran up on the Constructicons holding Hound and playfully poked them each in the back. They spun around, dumbstruck as Jazz grinned and waved. Still invisible, Mirage punched each one right in the nose. They both yelped and covered their faces with their hands, letting go of Hound. Jazz grabbed Hound’s hand and ran, pulling him away.

Sunstreaker’s expression darkened when he saw what was happening. A smirk curling his lip. Sideswipe broke the line, heading for his twin. Mirage repeated his invisible one-two punch on the other Constructicons as Sideswipe arrived. Within moments a melee broke out between them. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe pounded the slag out of the two Constructicons that had held him. Plating was peeled off and thrown to the ground. They showed absolutely no mercy.

At moments like this, Mirage thanked Primus Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were Autobots, not Deceptions.

Megatron yelled and then lunged at Optimus. “Betrayer!”

“Look who’s talking, Megatron!” Optimus replied, easily pushing back against the attack.

Mirage scanned the battlefield, seeing Prowl shove Hound and Jazz at Trailbreaker who threw up a forcefield around them. Prowl then turned with his pistol and began to shoot at Scrapper, who returned fire. Hound was safe, and Jazz, too. With that knowledge, Mirage refocused on the fight, using his stealth to help prevent the Constructicons from forming Devestator by pulling any two apart that were attempting the merge.

“How can you do this, Prime? Starscream needs to be stopped before his idiocy is the death of us all!” Megatron said as he wrestled with Optimus.

Throwing Megatron down to the ground, Optimus kneeled his full weight into his chest, pinning him. “If he does something to threaten this planet, we will stop him. Just as we’ve stopped you.”

“You’re a fool! He’s already set a plan in motion! He’ll be the death of this planet and possibly Cybertron, too!” Megatron yelled.

::Optimus, we have an ‘in’ with Soundwave. I say we query him and end this battle as swiftly as possible,:: Prowl cut in over the comm lines.

::Agreed,:: Optimus replied.

Standing back up, Optimus pushed the nose of his blaster against Megatron’s chest. “Don’t botnap any more of my Autobots. Is that clear? You have no bargaining stance with me.”

“You’re going to ignore my warnings?” Megatron asked.

“I’ll take them under consideration, but we are not aligning ourselves with you,” Optimus replied. He stepped back, and subtly nodded.

::Clear the area, Autobots!:: Prowl barked over the comm. ::Once clear, set secondary explosives off, Mirage.::

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe dropped the Constructicons they were beating to the ground and ran toward Trailbreaker’s position. As soon as Optimus backed up, Mirage set the explosives off. The fighting had shifted them slightly off where he’s set them, but it was close enough to send Megatron flying a short distance and damage him.

Shakily getting up, Megatron leveled a dark look at Optimus. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I highly doubt that,” Optimus replied.

“Constructicons, retreat!” Megatron took the sky, followed by the badly beaten gestalt team.

When they were gone, Optimus transformed and opened his trailer. “Load them in for the ride back.”

Trailbreaker’s forcefield dropped and Jazz helped guide Hound toward the open trailer. That was when Mirage noticed Hound’s optics weren’t focusing. He jogged up and gently touched Hound’s arm. Unfocused optics turned his direction, and Hound sadly smiled. “Hey, Mirage.”

“You get in here, and just relax. We got you,” Jazz commented as he walked Hound up the ramp.

Mirage let his hand slide off Hound’s arm and stood outside, watching with his spark breaking in a million pieces. Hound didn’t deserve this. No one did, really. Hugging his middle, tears pooled on his optics.

Sunstreaker went stalking past the trailer with Prowl on his heels. “I think it would be best if you rode in the trailer with Hound,” Prowl said.

“Frag off, Prowl,” Sunstreaker growled.

Sideswipe moved to block Prowl from following him. “Let him drive back. I’ll keep an optic on him, promise.”

Prowl frowned, but noded. “Keep him safe.”

“I will,” Sideswipe replied.

Sunstreaker transformed and took off, kicking up a plume of dust. Sideswipe jogged and then transformed, taking off after Sunstreaker.

Trailbreaker gently pat Prowl’s arm. “I’ll head back with them, too.”

“Thank you,” Prowl replied.

Trailbreaker also transformed and drove off after the brothers.

Jazz got Hound settled in, and was about to hop out of the trailer when Prowl walked over. “I’d prefer you ride with him.”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m sparked?” Jazz asked, sounding vaguely annoyed.

Prowl shook his head. “No, because he needs someone to look after him. Someone he can talk to and be comfortable with,” he said in a lowered voice.

Jazz looked at Mirage standing just beside them. “Maybe you should ride with us, too?”

Tears skipped down Mirage’s cheeks as he looked at Jazz and shook his head. “I’ll just cry the whole time, and he doesn’t need that right now.”

Jazz sadly smiled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll stay with him.” He retreated inside, and Optimus closed the trailer door.

“Prowl, Mirage, we’ll meet you back at the base,” Optimus stated before his engine rumbled and he slowly drove forward.

Prowl glanced at Mirage. “He’ll be alright.”

Mirage shook his head. “He’ll live. It’s not the same as being alright.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage/Hound and Twin-centric chapter. More Prowl/Jazz next time...

The trailer gently rocked as Optimus transported them back to base. Hound could see the blurry black and white shape that was Jazz in front of him move in a little closer.

“Is it okay if I take a quick look at you?” Jazz asked.

“I guess,” Hound replied. He felt Jazz very gently touch his arm as he leaned in. “Got whacked in the helm, huh?”

“Yeah. Hurts,” Hound replied.

A black hand moved near his face. “And your optics aren’t focusing?”

“They zapped me with some electrical prod thing, and it shorted out my visual cortex,” Hound replied.

“Ah. So I’m just a blurry talking blob, huh?” Jazz said, with small chuckle.

Hound smiled a little. “Pretty much, yeah.” The smile quickly faded, though. He wrapped his arms around his middle and sighed. “Why didn’t he want to ride with me? I mean, is it because of what happened?”

“You mean ‘Raj?” Jazz asked.

Hound nodded.

“He didn’t want to upset you is all,” Jazz replied. “Thought after everything, you didn’t need him sobbing ‘round you.”

Pulling his legs up, Hound deeply frowned as he sort of huddled into a ball. “I think I love him.”

Jazz’s visor brightened. “Yeah?”

“What if he won’t want me now, though? This is all so weird… That’s exactly what he thought about me at first,” Hound said with a sigh. “That I wouldn’t want him because of things that had happened to him.”

“‘Raj isn’t like that, Hound. I promise you that.” Jazz gently touched Hound’s leg. “It’s not my place to speak for ‘Raj, but I know him pretty slaggin’ well. He’s never been so twisted up over anyone before. Not even me. Just need to be patient with yourself, and a thousand percent honest with him. If somethin’ isn’t working, you tell him straight up. He might get miffed, but he’s not the sort to not offer forgiveness or apologies if he knows he was in the wrong.”

Hound slowly nodded. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

Jazz sadly smiled.

Optimus slowed to a stop. “We’re at the base.”

Having almost forgotten they were riding inside Optimus’ trailer, Hound suddenly felt embarrassed. He'd just said a lot of very personal things in front of his leader.

The trailer back opened and Ratchet was there to greet him. Hound let Jazz help him up and lead him down the ramp.

“Gonna get you fixed as good as new, Hound,” Ratchet said, gently putting his arm around Hound’s waist.

Good as new? On the outside maybe… Hound wasn’t so sure about the rest of it, though.

…

Sunstreaker hated medbay. _Hated it_. He shifted in his berth, annoyed that Ratchet hadn't released him yet. He was on edge, tired, and all he wanted to do was go paint to take his mind off everything.

A light knock at the door drew his attention. He smiled at the sight of Bluestreak peering in at him. “Hey. You up for a visit?”

“With you? Always,” Sunstreaker replied.

Bluestreak came into the room and without any hesitation sat down on the edge of the berth and hugged Sunstreaker. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Hugging him back, Sunstreaker dimmed his optics. “I’m made of tough stuff.”

Bluestreak sat back and half-smiled. “You really are. So, how long is Ratchet keeping you in here?”

“Forever?” Sunstreaker replied with a wry smile.

“In that case, I should give you my present right away.” Bluestreak reached into his subspace and pulled out a larger datapad. He offered it to Sunstreaker. “Turn it on. You’ll love what I loaded on it. Promise.”

Sunstreaker was dubious, but took the pad and turned it on. He smiled as he scrolled the various programs. “You put an art simulation on here?”

“Yep. It’s supposed to be really good. You use your fingers on the screen, so I know it’s not the same as painting, but maybe it’ll help?” Bluestreak looked hopeful as he smiled.

“A huge help. Thank you,” Sunstreaker replied.

Bluestreak was the only mech that he and Sideswipe had revealed the true nature of their relationship to, other than Jazz. In fact, Bluestreak had known for a long time. He’d always been very accepting of them, and he didn’t mind being around them if they were affectionate with one another. Over time he’d become one of their closest friends.

“Try it out! Draw me something?” Bluestreak prompted. “Maybe me looking cool with my rifle?”

Sunstreaker chuckled. “I dunno, maybe something a little less formal?” He opened the program and began to sketch with his fingers. He looked at Bluestreak sitting on his berth, and drew a quick study of him. When it started to look pretty good, he turned it to show Bluestreak.

Doorwings lifting, Bluestreak stared at it in awe. “You made me look so… um… handsome.”

“You are,” Sunstreaker replied with a laugh. It felt good to genuinely smile. Bluestreak had such a nice light and air to him.

“Oh, Blue, you’re here,” Sideswipe said as he appeared in the doorway.

“Yeah. Giving Sunny something to do while he’s stuck in here,” Bluestreak replied as he stood up and offered his seat on the berth to Sideswipe.

Sideswipe entered and sat down. He glanced at Sunstreaker and then took hold of his hand. They laced their fingers together, and Sunstreaker’s good mood faded a little. He loved his brother more than anything else in this world, but right now Bluestreak was the better distraction. He knew Sideswipe would want to spark merge to help Sunstreaker deal with what happened, and he hated sharing his traumas with his brother that way, even if it did help in the end.

“Games?” Sideswipe asked, looking at the datapad.

“An art program,” Sunstreaker replied. “Drew Blue real quick.” He turned the pad to show Sideswipe.

Smiling at the image, Sideswipe squeezed Sunstreaker’s hand. “Wow, so pretty.”

Bluestreak’s doorwings rose and he looked mildly embarrassed.

“Well, pretty subject,” Sunstreaker replied, enjoying teasing Bluestreak.

Mouth tightly closed, Bluestreak made a humph sound at them.

Sideswipe snickered a little. “He really is, isn’t he? No wonder practically everyone falls over themselves to hang out with him, huh?”

“They do not!” Bluestreak replied.

“Oh come on, what about that time Trailbreaker was sitting _way_ too close to you when we were watching that horror movie?” Sideswipe cited.

“He’s a big mech and the couch in the lounge wasn’t big enough for everyone on it comfortably,” Bluestreak replied.

“Or the time Smokescreen copped a feel of your doorwings in the refectory?” Sunstreaker asked with a small smile.

“He did not! He just bumped into me. You two are completely crazy,” Bluestreak replied with a petulant frown.

Sideswipe burst out laughing. “You’re so easy to fluster. You _know_ we’re teasing.”

Bluestreak crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because we have the best high-grade, and comfy quarters to hang out in,” Sideswipe replied.

“Hmm that and you’re also super nice despite the reps you like to encourage on base,” Bluestreak replied with a smirk.

“Whoa, had no idea you had so many visitors,” Ratchet said as he walked in with a medical chart in his hands.

Sideswipe quickly and discreetly pulled his hand from Sunstreaker’s. “Just checking up on Sunny. Make sure he’s not too bored,” Sideswipe replied.

Ratchet pursed his lips in a small frown. “Or plotting something nefarious. Either way, Sunstreaker your readings are almost stable. I’m gonna release you later today. Your brother can come collect you after first shift ends.”

 _Thank Primus_ , Sunstreaker thought as he nodded.

“Well. I should get going for my shift. I have oh-so-fun monitor duty with Red in security,” Sideswipe said sarcastically.

Sunstreaker warmly smiled at his brother. “See you later, then.” A part of him ached for a kiss, but that wasn’t going to happen with Ratchet here. He could see Sideswipe’s frustration too when he balled his hands in his lap.

“Definitely,” Sideswipe replied.

“I’m off today. Would it be okay if I stay for a little while?” Bluestreak asked.

Ratchet shrugged a shoulder. “If Sunstreaker is up for that, I don’t see why not.”

Sunstreaker glanced at Bluestreak. “I’d love the company.”

Bluestreak practically beamed as he smiled back at him. Sunstreaker’s spark felt lighter when he was around Blue, so having him here a little while longer would help more than the young Praxian knew.

“Be back for you in a few,” Sideswipe said, standing up and stealing a touch to Sunstreaker’s arm. They’d make up for the lack of physical affection later...

…

No matter what he did, the memories of being violated filled his head. Hound tried to recharge in order to escape but often woke to memory feedback. Staring up at the orange tinted ceiling he wondered how long his life would be like this. Would those images and sensations ever stop haunting him? More than all that, he worried that he’d lost Mirage. After everything… something he’d had no control over might’ve destroyed what they had.

“Hound?”

Glancing at the door, his spark fluttered at the sight of Mirage. “Hello, stranger.”

Mirage frowned. “Ratchet just let me know you were finally ready for visitors.”

Hound pushed the button on the berth to lift half of it up to help him support him in a sitting position. “I'd love a visitor.”

Looking unsure, Mirage tentatively entered the room. He picked up the stool Ratchet usually sat on and placed it next to the berth, perching on the edge to sit.

“I wanted to apologize,” Mirage said, rubbing his hands together nervously in his lap.

“For what?” Hound asked.

“I was told you wanted me to ride back with you,” Mirage explained. “I-I was being selfish. I shouldn't have let my emotions rule me. I should've been there when you wanted me to be.”

“It’s okay. I get why you didn’t want to. I’m not mad, you don’t need to be sorry,” Hound replied. As much as he had wanted Mirage there, he knew after waking up in medbay it had been a much better choice to have Jazz ride with him.

Mirage looked down at his hands in his lap. “Please accept my apology.”

Softly sighing, Hound nodded. “Accepted.” Mirage was still so hard to figure out for him. This whole accountability thing was definitely going to take time for him to get used to.

Glancing up, Mirage looked relieved. “How do you feel?” His optics darted to the back of Hound’s helm.

“Ratch fixed up my helm and the dent in my processor. He also fixed what was blurring my vision. I’m sore, and pretty tired from my autorepair, but I’m healing up,” Hound replied.

“He let Sunstreaker go a little while ago,” Mirage said with a small frown.

“I think he’s keeping me because of the damage to my head,” Hound replied. That and his fitful recharges where he’d wake up yelling. But Mirage didn’t need to hear about that.

“Right, of course,” Mirage replied. Slumping his shoulders, he looked down again.

It was strange to see someone who could be so full of himself practically deflate in front of Hound. He thought about how Jazz described it as Mirage being ‘twisted up’ over him. He also thought about Trailbreaker pointing out how Mirage’s behavior was a sign of respect in noble society. Hound didn’t want Mirage to feel insecure around him, though. He also didn’t want Mirage to hurt because of him, either.

“Anything happen on base while I’ve been in here the last couple days?” Hound asked, trying to guide the conversation elsewhere.

“Nothing really. All’s been quiet on and off base. It’s a little eerie,” Mirage replied.

“Any gossip?” Hound asked with a small smile.

Mirage’s optics brightened. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes gossip.”

“Normally, no. But I’ve been pretty bored in here,” Hound replied with a shrug.

“Um, well, I suppose it’s not exactly gossip, but Jazz is in his third phase and if he references him and Prowl interfacing one more time I might purge right in his lap,” Mirage said with a small smirk. “I’m glad they seem to be doing alright despite the damage that coding may have caused to their relationship. I just don’t need the visual of Prowl… you know.”

Hound chuckled a little at that. “He’s been over sharing, huh?”

“A little.” Mirage relaxed some. “As for actual gossip, supposedly Bumblebee took Cliffjumper back yet again. I don’t really understand why, they’ve been on and off more times than I can count on both hands.”

“Yeah. Not the best match, but I know Cliffjumper really does love Bee. He’s just, well, got his own issues,” Hound replied. “But maybe having someone as patient and caring as Bee will eventually help him, you know?”

Mirage gazed at Hound for a moment. “I love how romantic you are.”

Hound’s face heated a little in response as he held Mirage’s gaze.

“Nothing else comes to mind regarding any base gossip,” Mirage said after a moment, glancing back down at his lap. “Everyone is still in shock about the brazen kidnapping. I know Optimus and Prowl have spent quite a bit of time together trying to strategize a proper move. Or, more accurately, Prowl is doing his very best to move an immovable object.”

“What do you mean?” Hound asked.

“Jazz told me Prowl won’t let his sparkling be raised in the middle of a war. When you and Sunstreaker were taken, it only strengthened his resolve to put an end to it. Optimus is apparently not willing to take more drastic measures. Well, that’s what Jazz told me, so I suppose that’s a bit more gossip,” Mirage explained.

Hound nodded. “I think this war should end.”

“As do I.” Mirage frowned a little. “Enough is enough.”

Reaching out, Hound put his hand on Mirage’s. Turning his hand in his lap, Mirage took hold of it, and a thick silence fell.

“I’m feeling kinda tired,” Hound said after a moment.

“Oh, I’ll go then. Let you rest.” Mirage slid off the stool to leave, but Hound grasped his hand tightly.

“Stay with me?” Hound asked. He gently tugged Mirage closer to the berth. “Please?”

Looking surprised, Mirage canted his head. “Are you sure?”

“I know I sound like a sparkling, but I really rather not be alone, and I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather stay with me right now.” Hound sadly smiled.

Taking a seat on the berth, Mirage nodded and pulled Hound’s hand into his lap, sandwiching it between his two hands. “Rest. I’ll be here so long as Ratchet doesn’t ask me to leave.”

Spark fluttering again, Hound wanted to tell Mirage he loved him at that moment. But he held the words back, wanting to tell him when he was in a better state. “I’m really glad you came to see me.”

Mirage squeezed his hand and shyly smiled. “Rest.”

Hound dimmed his optics, and nodded once.

He was so happy he’d come by. If not for Mirage, Hound knew he’d probably just slide deeper into his despair. It was that moment he decided this pretty mech sitting beside him would be the driving force behind his desire to heal. If he wanted a relationship with Mirage and he knew the only way to get there was to push through the pain, and it would be worth every ounce of effort.

…

Bluestreak wandered into the refectory for some fuel before starting his day. He stood behind Cliffjumper and watched him fill two glasses, all grins. The minibot then bolted from the dispenser and slid into a seat across from Bumblebee, giving him one of the glasses of fuel.

Smiling at the sight, Bluestreak was about to turn and fill his own glass when he spotted Sideswipe in the corner alone. That was odd. Usually after captures the twins were inseparable. He filled his glass then wandered over and sat down across from Sideswipe.

“Hey there,” Bluestreak said with a friendly smile.

Sideswipe sadly smiled. “Hey, Blue.”

“Where’s Mr. Sunshine?” Bluestreak asked before taking a sip of his fuel.

Fingering his nearly empty glass, Sideswipe shrugged. “Had a fight last night and he left the room. Haven’t seen him since.”

That was not good. “You know where he went?” Bluestreak asked, worried.

“Pretty sure I know where he is. But he’s being a stubborn pain in my aft. I’m not ready to go get him yet,” Sideswipe replied with a scowl.

Bluestreak frowned. “Sorry, Sides. Is there anything I can do?”

“Nah.” Sideswipe sighed.

Bluestreak hated seeing the twins at odds like this. “This because of what happened?” he asked in a softer voice so no one would overhear.

Sideswipe nodded. “Refuses to merge,” he quietly replied.

“If you know where he is, I could go try to talk to him? I don’t mind,” Bluestreak offered.

Sideswipe gazed at him and sadly smiled. “That’s sweet, but I need to deal with him myself.”

Bluestreak nodded. He wished he was more helpful in these sorts of situations, but he also understood that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had their own ways of dealing with things that sometimes looked counterintuitive from the outside.

He glanced back over at Bumblebee and Cliffjumper, and couldn’t help but smile again. “They look happy, huh?”

Sideswipe nodded. “They fight almost as much as me and Sunny.”

“Yeah, I guess they do. But it’s not the same. You and Sunny are one and belong together always. Even when you do fight, it’s not to hurt each other, but protect one another from something.” Bluestreak looked back at Sideswipe, and semi-froze in place at the intense gaze that met his. “Um, did I say something I shouldn’t have? I didn’t mean any–”

Pressing a hand over Bluestreak’s, Sideswipe suddenly grinned. “You always say exactly the right thing, Blue.”

“I do?” Bluestreak replied, unsure what he’d said to brighten Sideswipe’s mood so much.

“Yep.” Sideswipe finished his fuel, setting his empty glass down with a thud. Signature lopsided grin curving his mouth, he then pushed to stand. “Time to go deal with my other half. Thanks, Blue.”

Still unsure what he’d said to prompt the turn around, he nodded at Sideswipe. “Sure thing.”

“Catch you later.” Sideswipe then strode out of the refectory like a mech on a mission.

“Well, that was weird,” Bluestreak murmured to himself.

…

Fists pummeling the attack drone, Sunstreaker grunted. He was on his fifth drone, the rest in pieces all over the floor of the cargo area. The sensation of fluid seeping down his legs, the stench of those disgusting Constructicons heated circuits from overloading, the way they talked to him like he was nothing more than something to jack their spikes into filled him with overwhelming rage. He smashed the attack drone with a sharp jab of his fist into the wall. It imploded and hissed as smoke rose from the impact point. Stepping back, he watched it fall to the floor with a clang.

He spun around to get another one out of the storage container, but stopped short when he saw Sideswipe sitting on the container.

“How many you break so far?” Sideswipe asked.

“What does it matter?” Sunstreaker countered with a growl. “Get off the container. I need another one.”

“You _need_ to merge with me,” Sideswipe replied.

“No.” Sunstreaker stalked over and shoved at Sideswipe to move.

Sideswipe refused to budge, though. “Merge with me.”

“No!” Sunstreaker yelled.

“Why?” Sideswipe yelled back, undeterred.

“Just… _no_. Drop it. I don’t want to, and that’s that!” Sunstreaker knew his brother well enough to see Sideswipe wasn’t going to back down, though.

“You can’t carry the burden on your own, you know that. I can handle it. Whatever they did, I can handle it. It’s not like I haven’t been in your place before,” Sideswipe replied.

“This was worse.” Sunstreaker clenched his fists.

Sideswipe reached up, hand sliding up Sunstreaker’s chest to rest over where his spark lay underneath. “We’re two halves. The only way to heal is to be whole with me. You know I’m right.”

Grasping Sideswipe’s wrist, Sunstreaker was going to fling it away, but hesitated. He knew he would only spiral into deeper depression and rage if he didn’t give in. But with a merge Sideswipe would feel it all; it would be as if everything had happened to him, too.

“I know you want to protect me. I love you so much for that,” Sideswipe said in a softened voice. “But I want to do this for you. So let me. Please.”

“You’re a fragger,” Sunstreaker growled.

“And you’re a gorgeous pain in my aft,” Sideswipe replied, grinning. “Come on, let’s go back to our room.”

Sideswipe had clearly made up his mind and there was no denying him without getting into a fistfight. Miserable, Sunstreaker finally conceded. “Okay.”

Letting his brother lead the way, they left the cargo area and wandered through the base to the barracks. Sunstreaker felt like he was walking toward oblivion as they reached the door to their quarters. It was irrational. He knew merging would help. It always had in the past, but he also always felt so guilty for forcing his experiences on Sideswipe.

Inside, Sideswipe took hold of Sunstreaker’s hand and pulled him into the berthroom. He smiled warmly and gestured to the berth. “After you.”

Sunstreaker sighed and crawled onto the berth. He sat in the middle, tucking one leg under and stretching the other out.

“Do it sitting up?” Sideswipe asked as he joined Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker nodded.

Sideswipe mirrored his brother as he settled in front of him, one leg under and the other loosely curved around his side and back. Pressing close, Sideswipe gently brushed their lips together. Sunstreaker’s one true weakness was his brother. He leaned forward and captured those teasing lips in a fierce kiss. His fingers curled possessively into Sideswipe’s plating just above his hips as their kiss deepened. Glossae tangling between linked mouths, heat flashing over his plating, desire stirring in his array, Sunstreaker almost forgot the reason he’d crawled up onto their berth in the first place.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Sideswipe grinned. “Open up your chest, beautiful.”

Oh right. Merging. Sunstreaker dimmed his optics and frowned. “I’ll be okay. We don’t have–”

Fingers pinched his lips shut, and Sideswipe shook his head. His grin replaced with a look of determination. “No, Sunny. We do this now.”

Batting the hand away, Sunstreaker grimaced. “ _Fine_.” He parted his chestplates, his half of their spark pulsing faster with nervous anticipation.

Sideswipe didn’t waste a second, chestplates also parting as he pressed in close.

Sunstreaker gasped as each half reached for the other. Nothing compared to the sensation of completeness he felt when their sparks became whole. The world around them fell away. Memories and emotions swirled within their fully formed spark.

_Fighting. Losing. Capture. Worry. Pain. Hands on golden plating. Waiting for the go ahead on the rescue plan. Spreader bar attached. Sick with worry. Spike after spike after spike spilling inside him. Lack of recharge. Humiliation. Rage. Fighting more. Fighting with every last scrap of energy left. Fleeing the pain. Anger and humiliation taking over. Calm in the form of comfort Bluestreak offered. Bluestreak. Affection. Adoration…Love?_

In a singular moment the true feelings their spark felt for Bluestreak struck hard.

Each half of their sparks surged, causing a pleasure-filled overload to slam every system in their frames. They both cried out, letting the energy rip through them and then disperse. Each spark half returned to its respective chamber, and they slumped against one another in their seated position, panting while their cooling fans kicked into high gear.

Sunstreaker had no idea his brother had feelings for Bluestreak. Let alone similar feelings to his own. It made sense, but still… They’d always just loved one another. How could they also be with anyone else?

“That… I wasn’t expecting that last part,” Sideswipe said, still softly panting.

“Me neither,” Sunstreaker replied, his grasp on his brother tightening.

“You’re attracted to Blue,” Sideswipe said, sounding surprised.

“So are you,” Sunstreaker replied.

“Things have changed here on Earth between all of us, haven't they?” Sideswipe asked.

Sunstreaker nodded, then lifted his head to look into Sideswipe’s optics. “He’s been our closest friend here.”

“He’s always accepted us as we are.” Sideswipe frowned a little. “What do we do now?”

Sighing, Sunstreaker shook his head. “I’ve got no clue.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Jazz still have issues to face, Mirage and Hound try their hardest in the light of the situation, and Bluestreak discovers the truth.

Pushing the wetted cloth between his legs, Prowl grimaced. He was sore. Jazz and their sparkling needed the energy surges from overloading and it was his duty to provide that, but being spiked each morning was starting to wear on him, quite literally. He finished cleaning up and rinsed his frame under the water.

He couldn’t say anything about his discomfort, though. He’d decided it was something he’d endure for Jazz. It was the least he could do considering all he’d done to wrong the mech he adored so much. In time Jazz would mentally heal enough to let him also spike again, well, he hoped that would be case anyway… Turning the water off, he grabbed a drying cloth to pat himself down.

Gleaming and clean, Prowl strode out to the berthroom. He smiled at the curled up ball of Jazz in their berth. He walked over and carefully sat down on the edge, gently ghosting his fingers over one of Jazz’s cute little helm horns.

Dimly lighting his optics, Jazz grinned. “Off to the salt mines?”

“Salt mines?” Prowl asked, confused. “I have reports to review and scheduled meeting with Optimus.”

Jazz chuckled. “I gotta make you watch more Earth television.”

A reference to something Prowl knew nothing about as per usual. “When the war is over, you can rot my processor with all the Earth culture gibberish you’d like.”

Laughing, Jazz took hold of Prowl’s hand and kissed the palm. “Stop being so cute. Otherwise I might just drag you back into this berth and make you recharge the day away with me.”

Prowl smiled. “Sounds lovely, but I do have work to do.” He leaned down and they kissed. “Rest and I’ll see you later.”

Jazz gazed at him with those beautiful bright blue optics of his that melted Prowl’s spark right in it’s chamber. “I’ll see your cute aft later,” Jazz said with a grin.

Prowl shook his head and then stole one last kiss before leaving what was now their quarters. He quietly padded out of the barracks and down the corridor that went past medbay and the laboratories.

“Prowl.”

He came to a stop and glanced back, seeing Ratchet walking out of Wheeljack’s lab. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you come into medbay for a sec?” Ratchet asked, though by his tone Prowl knew it wasn’t a request.

Prowl graciously nodded and turned around. He entered medbay with Ratchet and followed him to one of the exam rooms. Confused, he glanced around. “Was there something you needed?”

“Nope.” Ratchet shut the door and pointed to the exam berth. “Have a seat.”

“I don’t understand,” Prowl replied as he gingerly seated himself on the berth.

Ratchet pat the top half of the berth. “Lay back for me.”

“I’d appreciate an explanation,” Prowl said, his annoyance coloring his tone.

“You had the _walk_.” Ratchet pat the berth again. “Just lay back and spread your legs for me.”

“The walk? What in the cosmos is _that_ supposed to mean?” Prowl asked.

Ratchet frowned. “Jazz has been spiking you everyday? Sometimes more than once?”

Heat instantly flashed over Prowl’s faceplates. Ratchet could tell by the way he was walking? “I, um, well, he’s still dealing with his trauma from the capture, but requires such activity for the sparkling.”

“Lay back and let me give you some relief, then,” Ratchet replied as he went the cabinet in the room and riffled through the shelves.

Prowl finally acquiesced, laying back. It did hurt, but he thought he’d hidden it well. Apparently not.

Ratchet set a small container and tool on the rolling berthside table and pushed it to the end of the berth. He gently touched each of Prowl’s feet. “Feet flat on the berth, bend at the knees and spread your legs apart.”

Embarrassed, but also knowing that Ratchet wasn’t letting him leave here without treating him, Prowl did as he asked.

“Open your array cover,” Ratchet said as he removed the lid to the small container and dipped a strange looking tool into a thick lubricant-like substance. It almost looked like a false spike… “I get that Jazz has a bunch of slag to sort through, but for the sake of not just the sparkling, but your own array, I think you and him need to have a little talk about this.”

Prowl’s array cover snapped back. He balled his hands into fists and tensed in anticipation of more pain from his abused valve. “I can’t force him to heal faster.”

To Ratchet’s credit he was very gentle. The pain of the tool pressing inside wasn’t nearly as bad as Prowl expected and the lubricant he spread cooled and calmed his irritated valve lining. “No, but unlike past instances, you don’t have the luxury of time. You’ve stepped up as co-creator and now you need to step up and be his partner in your relationship. That means uncomfortable and sometimes awful conversations need to happen.” After applying another liberal coating of the lubricant, Ratchet glanced up at Prowl. “I get why you want to dote on him and let him have whatever he wants, especially considering the situation, but you can’t let him hurt you for his benefit.”

“I assure you that’s not the case,” Prowl replied.

“I think your inflamed valve lining might beg to differ,” Ratchet replied as he finished. “You can close up.” He walked over to the small sink in the corner of the room and washed the tool off with a mild solvent.

Closing his array cover, Prowl dimmed his optics a little. “I appreciate your concern, and your assistance.” Sitting back up, he marveled at how much better he felt.

Ratchet dried his hands and the tool off with a cloth. “Well, if you’re going to be stubborn, which I know you will, then stop in here and I’ll treat you again. You should be good for a couple days. The gel I just applied both numbs and helps assist your body to heal the damages.”

Prowl frowned as he scooted to the edge of the berth. He sat there for a moment, feeling incredibly out of his depth. He had once known all the parameters of his personal life. Controlled it completely, but now things were no longer adhering to his expectations and he was finding it difficult to adjust. How in the world could he confront Jazz about this? Jazz had done nothing wrong and it seemed so selfish to complain about discomfort in his array that was treatable.

“Prowl? You alright?” Ratchet asked after a long moment of silence.

Prowl sadly smiled and nodded. “I’m just not very experienced with relationships.”

“You and Jazz have been together for a long time I thought? I’m sure he’d be open to talking,” Ratchet replied.

“Together a long time, but not out in the open until now. And due to my own selfish reasons, I often foisted some of the emotional issues we might’ve navigated together on Mirage to deal with instead,” Prowl admitted. He then lowered his head. “Please don’t repeat what I just said to anyone.”

Ratchet put a hand on Prowl’s shoulder and squeezed. “I think you’re underestimating yourself. If you can handle wrangling this crew of misfits, I think you can deal with the less than glamorous side of being involved with Jazz.”

“I suppose,” Prowl replied. “Thank you. I already feel better.”

“Sure thing.” Ratchet gave a friendly slap to Prowl’s upper back. “Now get outta my medbay.”

“Excellent berthside manner,” Prowl quipped in a teasing tone.

“Can’t let you think I’m getting soft,” Ratchet replied with a chuckle.

Prowl got to his feet and shook his head at Ratchet before making his way out of medbay. Lost in a haze of thoughts about his and Jazz’s relationship and the gaps they really needed to address, he rounded the corner and nearly collided with Mirage.

Holding a datapad to his chest, Mirage’s optics brightened as he jumped back. “Prowl. Hey.”

Startled from his thoughts, Prowl’s doorwings sharply lifted upward as he halted. “My apologies. Morning, Mirage.”

“No harm done. I was on my way to come see you, actually,” Mirage replied.

“Oh?” Prowl canted his head. Why would Mirage want to see him?

Mirage hugged the datapad tighter. “Do you have a moment now?”

“Of course. Come to my office,” Prowl replied. They walked down the hall and Prowl opened his office door with his code. They entered and Mirage stopped just inside. “What did you need?” Prowl asked.

“I’m scheduled for monitor duty on the command deck later today for second shift, but I was hoping I might be excused from my shift?” Mirage asked.

“For what purpose?” Prowl responded.

Mirage frowned. “To continue keeping Hound company in medbay.”

“Do you have someone that can cover your shift?” Prowl asked.

“Um, no.” Mirage deflated a little. “I was hoping my presence might not be necessary.”

“Hound and Sunstreaker are currently off the roster along with Jazz, and I already approved Sideswipe for today off, making shift coverage thin.” Prowl sat down and accessed the schedule on his console. “I don’t see anyone I can move around, and I’m reluctant to put someone on duty that has today off.”

“Oh. I understand,” Mirage replied, clearly disappointed.

Prowl glanced at Mirage, feeling badly. He was aware through Jazz that Mirage and Hound were involved and this recent incident was putting stress on the budding relationship. “Perhaps there is someone I can put on in your place. One moment.” He opened his comm and pinged Jazz.

After three pings, Jazz finally answered.

::Good thing I love you, otherwise I’d be pretty fragged off at being woken up, :: Jazz replied.

::Your subordinate is asking for today off, and I’m unable to cover his shift on the command deck with anyone else. Would you feel up to spending second shift with me on deck in his place?:: Prowl asked.

Mirage fingered the datapad nervously as he waited.

::‘Raj wants to spend the day with Hound? That’s pretty cute. I’m glad they’re hanging on and working on things despite what happened. Yeah. I’ll take his shift. And tease you relentlessly!:: Jazz replied, chuckling.

 _Working on things…_ Prowl couldn’t help but think about what Ratchet said and frowned a little. ::Thank you for covering for him. Off deck, you may harass me as much as you like, but there will be only the most respectful behavior _on_ deck. ::

::I’d say you’re no fun, but we both know that’s not true,:: Jazz replied. ::See your sexy aft later!::

The line cut out and Prowl’s face heated at the comment, despite knowing Mirage had no way of hearing his private comm. Glancing at Mirage, Prowl nodded. “Jazz will cover your shift. I will make arrangements for a couple days off rotation for you.”

Both surprised and elated, Mirage nodded. “Thank you so much.”

“Looking after Hound’s emotional and mental well being is important,” Prowl replied.

Mirage shyly smiled. “I don’t know how well I’m doing at that, but I _am_ trying.”

“I’m sure you’re doing just fine,” Prowl replied. His doorwings lowered a little. “May I ask you a somewhat personal question regarding Jazz?”

“Jazz?” Mirage’s smile faded.

Prowl nodded. “I realize that you two have always looked after one another after unpleasant instances.” He frowned a little. “I was hoping this time Jazz might confide in me, but he refuses to. I’m worried what happened might be affecting him, and any advice you might have to offer on this, I’d very much appreciate hearing. I’m at a loss right now.”

Mirage shifted his weight on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Jazz kinda talked to me about it already.”

Doorwings lowering more, Prowl felt like his spark had been stabbed. Jazz still went to Mirage first, even now?

“Look, Prowl. I don’t know what makes for a healthy relationship. I’ve only known loveless relationships or unrequited feelings until very recently and even that is shaky at best right now.” Mirage leveled a serious look at Prowl. “But I do know Jazz. He lives in denial most of the time. It takes me time to move past things that have been done to me, and even when I’m feeling okay again, I still bear emotional scars. Jazz goes back to being his usual happy-go-lucky self in a matter of a couple weeks. I thought maybe he was just better at coping for a long time, but then I started to notice cracks in his facade. I never helped him, not really. Not the way you seem to think I did.”

Prowl took a moment to digest Mirage’s observations. “But he won’t open up to me about this.”

“Make him. Primus knows he needs it. Holding all that slag inside only rots the spark. I know from experience,” Mirage replied.

Prowl sighed and vaguely nodded.

“Just remember he trusts you above anyone else, me included. You’ve always been the one that holds his spark. Even with that coding rampaging through him, living in my room, he still showed signs of loving only you.” Mirage half-smiled. “I envy what you two have.”

Humbled, Prowl dimmed his optics a little. “Thank you for your insights.”

“And thank you for the shift changes,” Mirage replied. “If it’s alright, I’m gonna head back to medbay.”

Prowl nodded. “Hound is a very fortunate mech to have you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mirage replied with a small shrug.

Once Mirage exited, Prowl deflated at his desk. He didn’t want to force Jazz to share with him, but things couldn’t go on like this. Raising a sparkling together would be difficult enough... They needed to address their poor communication before their lives got even more complicated.

…

Mirage was elated at having the day to spend with Hound, even if he felt unsure how much his presence was really helping. He held the datapad he intended to gift to Hound close to his chest as he entered medbay.

“Back again, eh?” Ratchet said, spotting Mirage from where he was busily wiping down a berth in the first exam room.

Coming to a stop, Mirage nodded. “It is alright, isn’t it? To come and see him?”

Ratchet half-smiled. “Of course it is.”

Mirage approached the doorway of the exam room and frowned a little. “You’re still keeping him here despite the fact he’s physically well. How much longer will it be do you think?”

Smile fading a little, Ratchet resumed cleaning up the exam room, not making optic contact. “Hound was tortured, injured, beaten. It was also his first time experiencing Decepticon _hospitality_.” He then glanced at Mirage. “How long did I keep you your first time?”

“The Earth equivalent of a month,” Mirage quietly replied.

“Unlike you, though, he’s got someone he can talk to, someone he clearly cares deeply for visiting with him everyday. So I’m hoping his stay won’t be quite as long.” Ratchet tossed his dirtied cloth into a bin.

“I had Jazz,” Mirage pointed out.

“You did and you didn’t. He came to see you, sure. For what? Like an hour a day maybe? Then he’d be off again.” Ratchet walked up to Mirage and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “This is different. I can heal his body, but I think you’re doing a great job at healing his spark.”

Mirage worried his efforts were not enough, but it was nice to hear nonetheless. “I hope so.”

“I know so,” Ratchet replied.

Mirage turned as he shyly smiled before walking to the rooms at the back of medbay. He peered in the open doorway, gaze met with two blue optics that brightened.

“Mirage, hey.” Hound smiled.

“How are you feeling?” Mirage asked as he entered.

“Okay, mostly,” Hound replied. “Much better now that you’re here, though.”

Walking in, Mirage couldn’t help but smile in response. Hound shifted his legs over in his berth to make room for Mirage to sit. Taking the cue, he sat down in the offered spot. “I brought you a little something.”

Hound glanced at the datapad in his grasp. “Work?” he said, teasing.

“Hardly.” Mirage held it out, and Hound took it, putting it in his lap and turning it on. “Bumblebee helped me quite a bit. So this gift is from him as much as it is from him as me.”

Hound’s optics brightened when he saw the list of Earth programs. “Nature shows. A lot of them. Wow!” He looked up at Mirage. “This is so thoughtful. You be sure to thank him if you see him before me. And um, thank _you_.”

Happy that his gift had the desired effect, Mirage nodded his acknowledgement. “You are more than welcome.”

“Watch a show with me?” Hound asked.

Mirage canted his head. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Hound pat the spot right next to him. “You can sit closer to me, you know. I won’t break if you touch me. Promise.”

Ducking his head a little, Mirage felt his face heat. He’d been careful to limit physical contact, remembering how hard it had been for him after his first time being used by the Decepticons to let anyone touch him at all. “I don’t mean to be distant.”

“You’re being respectful. I know, I get that. And I’m telling you it’s okay. I trust you.” Hound pat the berth again, scooting over a bit. “So get your beautiful aft over here and let’s watch some of these.”

Mirage smiled and nodded as he moved to sit beside Hound in the berth. The back of the berth was elevated and they relaxed against it, Mirage tucked up against Hound’s side. “Which should we watch first?” Mirage scrolled through the list on the datapad screen.

“How about the evolution of the whale one. That sounds interesting,” Hound replied.

Mirage clicked on the episode and it began to play. They didn’t say anything while the show played, but Hound did wrap his arm around Mirage, hugging him against his side. It was incredibly intimate in a way he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Just being this close, being this trusted, meant more to Mirage than he could ever put into words. It was all going to take time for Hound to get back to a good place, but Mirage was more than willing to wait as long that might take.

…

“What about this movie?” Bluestreak asked as he scrolled through the listings on the datapad he’d plugged into the twins’ large screen in their quarters. “It’s called _Raiders of the Lost Ark_?” He glanced back over his shoulder at the twins.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were sitting stiffly side-by-side on one of their two couches.

“Okay,” Sideswipe finally replied.

Bluestreak frowned a little, gaze bouncing between them. They were acting strange. He turned back to the datapad and started the movie. Getting up, he plopped on the other couch as it started to play. It had a great opening scene, and Bluestreak had to admit he really enjoyed the way humans made movies. He glanced at the twins when something funny happened and he was chuckling but they weren’t.

Sunstreaker wasn’t even looking at the screen, and when Sideswipe saw him look over, he forced a laugh.

Okay. Something was up. Maybe they hadn’t made up? But he was sure Sideswipe said they had. “Okay, you two. What’s up? You’re not laughing at the funny parts and being all stiff and weird.”

Two sets of bright blue optics focused on him. He’d known them a long time, but he’d never seen them look at him quite like that before.

“You guys are weirding me out. Maybe I should go.” Bluestreak had never felt uncomfortable around them before, and had no clue what was going on, but he wasn’t going to stay if they were going to keep staring at him like that. He started to get up from the secondary couch when Sideswipe got to his feet and gently grasped his arm.

“Don’t go. We’re sorry. Right, Sunny?” Sideswipe glanced at his brother.

“Yeah, no, it’s nothing, Blue. We’re just, um. It’s nothing,” Sunstreaker said. “Please stay. We don’t want you to go.”

Bluestreak looked at Sideswipe, then at Sunstreaker. He really didn’t want to go either, and sighed. “Okay, but stop being so weird.”

Sideswipe looked relieved and nodded fervently. “Yeah, sorry.”

They both sat back down, and the twins seemed to relax, getting more into the movie. By the end, they were all laughing and enjoying themselves like usual. Bluestreak was still getting a strange vibe from them, but chose to ignore it, chalking it up to the recent trauma Sunstreaker had been through.

When the movie was over, Bluestreak got up and began scrolling through the selection on the datapad again. “There’s two more movies with Indiana Jones. You wanna watch them?”

“Sure,” they replied in unison.

Bluestreak smiled a little, liking how after a merge they often spoke as one, either at the same time or finishing each other’s sentences. He was about to sit on the second couch, when the twins moved apart on the one they were occupying, making room between them.

“Sit with us?” Sideswipe asked. “Can see the screen better from this angle.”

Bluestreak smiled and happily sat down between them, careful not to whack them with his doorwings. “This is the better spot. Too bad the rock wall in here makes it hard to put the other couch at a good angle.”

“Plenty of room on this one for all of us, though,” Sunstreaker replied, resting his arm across the back of the couch behind Bluestreak.

“My doorwings are sort of in the way, though,” he pointed out, having them resting against the chests of each twin.

“We don’t mind,” Sideswipe replied with a huge grin.

Settled in, they watched the beginning of the next movie. Sideswipe idly ran his fingers over Bluestreak’s doorwing edge, causing a nice feedback of sensation over the sensitive appendage. He tried to ignore it, but soon he was warming from the light touches. “Um, Sides?”

“Yeah?” Sideswipe replied, looking at Bluestreak.

“It’s just, my doorwings are kind of sensitive, and I know you’re barely touching it, but, um, it’s been a long while since anyone touched them, so they’re even more sensitive, if you get what I mean?” Bluestreak sheepishly ducked his helm.

“You mean it feels nice and don’t stop?” Sideswipe replied, pretending to be dense, and increasing the pressure while petting the edge of his doorwing.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” Bluestreak replied. He was about push to stand when a golden arm slid around his middle. Optics bright, he looked at Sunstreaker, and suddenly it hit him like a cargo freighter. He realized what that look the twins had been giving really was. “S-Sunny?”

Sunstreaker leaned in close, gently nuzzling the edge of Bluestreak’s dark red chevron. “Yes, Blue?”

“You’re holding me so I can’t get up,” he replied, optics dimming as Sideswipe’s fingers found a cluster of nodes along the inner edge of his doorwing, sending a shiver through his body in response.

“Do you want to get up?” Sunstreaker asked, pulling back his arm so Bluestreak could have easily escaped their groping touches.

Sideswipe left little kisses along the back of his neck, which caused him to softly gasp. “N-not really.”

Sunstreaker chuckled and touched their noses, followed by ghosting his lips over Bluestreak’s.

Bluestreak found himself lost in a lustful haze, pushing forward and initiating a kiss with Sunstreaker. Their mouths melded, glossa meeting between and tangling together. He hadn’t interfaced since they were on Cybertron, so his array almost instantly warmed. They were his best friends, though. He shouldn’t be doing this, should he?

The kiss broke, and he shivered again as Sideswipe mouthed the side of his collar fairing. They were seducing him. Touch by touch, kiss after kiss, slowly driving him wild with want.

“I don't-” He paused, fighting to repress a moan as Sunstreaker’s thumb rimmed a headlight. “W-why are you two doing this?”

“Because we both like you,” Sideswipe replied.

“Because we both want more with you,” Sunstreaker elaborated.

Bluestreak tried to fight off the rising tide of desire coursing through him at the thought of interfacing with the two most beautiful mechs he knew.

“But w-” he groaned as Sideswipe groped the back spanse of his doorwing while mouthing the top edge. “We’re friends. This is something we should talk about first, isn't it?”

“Why?” Sideswipe asked. “You like us—”

“—We like you. So we should be together,” Sunstreaker finished.

Despite his desire, the assumption he'd just agree to be in a three way relationship with his best friends after a kiss and some very pleasant touching was enough to help him break free from their pull.

He extricated himself, standing up and whirling around ready to bat off anymore wayward hands. “You’re my best friends, but I'm not just gonna be with you without talking about it first! How dare you assume I'd just give myself over to you like that!”

They both looked hurt and upset.

“We didn’t mean to assume anything, Blue,” Sunstreaker replied.

“We just both realized we’ve got really strong feelings for you,” Sideswipe added.

Looking between them, Bluestreak felt more than a little confused, and hugged his own middle. “You both like me?”

They nodded.

“I don’t know how to feel about that. I mean, I like you both, but a three-way relationship can be complicated not to mention the fact no one on this base knows about you two aside from me.” Bluestreak wasn’t sure he’d want to be in a secret relationship with them. He’d always been affectionate and he knew he’d have a really hard time hiding something like this.

“Jazz knows?” Sideswipe offered with a shrug. “He didn’t freak out when he figured it out, either.”

“So what, I’d have one mech I could sort of talk to about all this? Then hide it from everyone else?” Bluestreak shook his head. “I… I need some time to think about this. I’m not saying no, but I’m not agreeing, either.”

“That’s fair,” Sideswipe replied.

“Blue.” Sunstreaker reached out and took hold of his hand. Sideswipe then mirrored his brother, taking hold of this other one. “We’re sorry to dump all this on you. But this isn’t something we just decided this morning or anything. We’ve both had these feelings stirring for you for a while now.”

“Yeah, when we merged it sort of all came out that we’ve both had a growing crush on you,” Sideswipe said with his signature lopsided smile.

Bluestreak nodded as he squeezed their hands. “That’s good to know, but I still need to process all this, and when I’m ready, we’ll talk. I think I should probably go, though.”

The twins both stood up, and Bluestreak found himself smooshed between the two of them in a hug. He dimmed his optics, realizing he also had very strong feelings for them. He wasn’t sure he was ready for more, though. When the twins let go, he sadly smiled, looking between them. “I’ll come find you in a couple days and we’ll talk.”

They looked disappointed, but nodded in unison.

Once again pulling himself away from them, Bluestreak quietly padded across the suite to the door. He paused and looked back at them. They looked very different to him now, and he wondered if they’d ever be just friends again. Offering a small, sad smile, he sighed then walked out.  


End file.
